Deadly Ambivalence
by Black-Neko-Chan
Summary: After a failed attempt to kill the man, Marik finds himself being held captive to Bakura. All he wants is to escape and get far away, but the two were destined to meet from the beginning, and Fate has a funny way of showing her cards.
1. Prelude

Wahaha! I have a new story out! And oh boy do I like it. X3 So here's the first chapter for my newest ficcy, which I hope you will all enjoy.

Oh, one thing to say quickly before I get to the disclaimer. When I say Marik I mean the hikari of course. I know, most people do it the other way around, but hey, this is just how I do it. So meh, hope that's not too annoying. Also, this is AU and centers around the pairing of Thiefshipping, though there will be others too, as soon as I'm sure that I'll be sticking them in here. Right now the only other shipping I'm almost positive I will be writing will be Puppyshipping. Yup, just wanted to make that all clear, heheh. XD

**Disclaimer!: **I make no money from the writing of this story because I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! I would like to, as I'm sure all of us would, but hey, that dream's not going to come true anytime soon right? So bleh, without further ado, I present to you Deadly Ambivalence!

**EDIT 9-3-12: **The chapter has been cleaned up some (read: fixed stupid mistakes I made before but probably still didn't catch them all), I took the suturing needles out of the first aid kit Ryou gave Marik because WHAT WAS I THINKING HE COULD HAVE KILLED BAKURA IF HE HAD THOSE!, and I also fixed the part where Marik mentions not having any weapons or anything on his person (because he actually does.)

* * *

The only thought that ran through Marik's head was "Well shit."

Of course, inevitably after that came the ringing proclamations of just how stupid he had been, and of all the mistakes he'd made and shouldn't have had he been paying better attention instead of acting like some cocky brat out on his first mission. Why, half of those mistakes could have been made by a rookie! Surely not he, great Marik Ishtar of the elite Tomb Keepers could have made such grave mistakes!

His skillfully tuned ears caught the sound of approaching footsteps and he stealthily molded his lithe body against the wall, hidden completely by the cloaking shadows. At least he could prevent himself from botching up yet again. And perhaps if the gods felt pleased today, they could allow him to salvage what little was left of this mission and get away after all. And if not, he mused, smiling wryly despite the bleak outcome, there would be plenty of time later to berate himself. Always looking on the bright side, that was him.

The footsteps grew louder as whoever it was walking at the time of night came closer and closer to Marik's hiding spot. His cynical smirk vanished as he listened carefully. The sound of the footfalls was muffled by the plush rug in the hallway, making the sound they produced difficult to hear. Despite this disadvantage, and his recent run of bad luck, Marik was able to discover what he'd been searching for. A slight shuffling of those feet, and was that the rustling swift-swift of pajamas? Good. The approaching intruder was not any sort of bodyguard, unless they'd taken to wearing the clothes of a sleepy citizen instead of Kevlar. Perhaps this was a gift from the gods, though admittedly, he would have rather preferred the absence of company, even if it was the kind that didn't come with guns ablaze.

Marik backed up ever so slightly to get more of his body into the shadows. It wouldn't do for this one stroke of luck to be ruined because his prey had caught sight of him. Not that he believed this would happen, but so far everything else tonight had turned out not to be in his best interests, so it was better to not risk it. He moved silently, and by the steady sound of the approaching feet, the other being was none the wiser. Which would ultimately be this person's downfall.

He held his breath, and gripped the hilt of the sheathed dagger hanging off his belt. The footsteps were turning the corner… and as a shot of adrenaline skyrocketed through his system, he went for his goal.

Marik darted out of the shadows, revealing himself to the widened brown eyes of his prey. He heard a gasp, then with one fluid motion had pulled out the dagger and hooked his free arm around the other person's skinny waist and had pulled their bodies sharply together. He jammed the dagger up to the scrawny neck of his prey and there was another gasp, hardly audible.

The body writhed against his. Marik's blood caught fire. Oh…! He loved it. Loved to feel that helpless struggling! It always gave him the same thrilling burst of fervent emotion and palpable ecstasy, but each prey's struggle before falling to his blade was so exciting!, so different!, that it ensured each experience to be a deliciously new one. Mmhmmm… He almost allowed his eyes to drift close. Oh… He wanted to kill this one… Bleed him like a pig… Watch the blood fall…

With a snarl Marik jabbed the dagger closer to that tempting neck. No, he couldn't kill his prey. Not yet. He still had a job to do, after all. But it still pleased him when he felt a small drip of wetness fall to the surface of his blade.

"Unless you wish to become a mere stain on this lovely carpet, I strongly suggest that you not utter a single syllable. Not even one of those adorable gasps of yours. Lest I feel tempted to cut your tongue from your mouth," Marik cooed deliriously in his captive's ear as he brushed away some of his hair. Normally he would have kept his arm firmly secured around the waist of his prey, but this one, this one was stiff with fear. He could literally smell the stench of terror coming off this one, and oh did it excite him! He wanted to make this little toy in his arms fear him even more!

"Not that I would mind too much," He continued, smiling twistedly as his free hand trailed slowly down the cheek of his captive, other still brandishing the dagger. Though the body pressed against his own was rigidly still, he could still feel the slightest tremor of fear course through the other's body. How… fun! It seemed that his victim was so terrified, he was actually attempting to keep something so involuntary as shuddering to a minimum!

"I would love for nothing more than to kill you here. But first," Marik whispered, shifting closer to his prey's ear, "I would make you bleed and scream. I'd start slowly, small cuts, then work my way up to bigger fish, like cutting off a finger. You wouldn't believe how much torture a body can endure until it shuts down. And how long it can take if done correctly..." His voice trailed off and now he did allow himself to close his eyes, and for a moment to envision that perfect scream echoing through the halls of this large house. Delicious. He opened his eyes with a shudder and pulled away from the ear of his little toy.

"Unfortunately, I have other business to attend to," He said, a little put off. He might not be able to kill this unlucky victim of his, but he did still have his mission to think about. He'd already messed up enough as it was. He had to make sure that nothing distracted him now, even if it was in the package of this delectable morsel.

Marik grabbed the other person and pressed his body flush against his own instantly as he dived once again into the dark shadows. More footsteps. Damn it! Evidently the gods weren't in the mood to grant him good luck tonight, he growled silently. And of course it seemed like everyone in this fucking house had to be up! Marik tightened his grip on the dagger and his captive's waist as the footsteps approached. If this brat even thought about crying out for help he'd be dead.

His heartbeat increased as the footsteps approached, until he thought if it grew any louder the one nearing the two of them would hear. Strangely, Marik couldn't feel the frantic heartbeat of his captive. It struck him as odd and out of place, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He had other problems to concentrate on, mainly, the big one growing ever closer. If he didn't handle this situation with precision, everything could be ruined. Damn it! Why the hell were so many people wandering around this house in the middle of the night anyways?

As the sound of footsteps increased, Marik strained his eyes to make out the approaching figure and his ears to hear if it was a bodyguard this time or another nobody. He was ready for anything, except for the flash of blinding light as the newcomer flicked on a light switch.

As soon as he could deal with the pain Marik forced himself to open his eyes. He'd made yet another stupid, amateur mistake, but maybe it wasn't too late! Maybe he could fix this all and still accomplish his mission! He just needed to kill the meddling interferer!

He meant to look at the intruder, but Marik's attention was diverted to the person he held pressed against his own body, his captive, as he saw him for the first time. A teenager, probably not too far apart from his own age, with wild, spiked silver hair and cold brown eyes. Immediately danger signs flashed off in Marik's head, especially as he beheld this teen's dangerous smirk.

_No…_

"Bakura?"

Marik glance at the other person still standing in the hallway and now siren's blared in his head as everything screamed at him to _get the fuck out of here!_

The intruder in the hallway was a mirror image of the teen in his arms, but softer and wearing the look of fear Marik had expected to witness in his captive's face.

Before he understood what was going on, much less had processed anything but for the fact that he was royally screwed, Marik's "captive's" elbow slammed into the center of his chest with enough force to expel the air from his lungs and send him stumbling backwards, dropping the dagger and releasing the teen as he clutched at his chest. A fist connected violently with his face again and again, breaking his nose and sending hot blood gushing down his chin.

Marik spun around wildly, wide-eyed and clutching at the shattered mess of his once beautiful face and nose. Blood had dripped into his left eyes and anything that he could manage to see was spinning and fuzzy. Pain blinded him and confused him even more, making most thoughts impossible, other than the frantic need to get the hell out of here! His dagger, where was his dagger? If he could just get his weapon-!

"Looking for this? What was it that you had said to me? That you would start with small cuts and then chop off limbs? What a brilliant idea." A dark chuckle, that even in his state sent shivers down Marik's spine. Then pain. Pain in his arm, and suddenly he was on the rug in the floor, which strangely enough in the light now looked like the color of deep crimson blood-

(_Or was that his own?_)

curled in a fetal position, crying out at kick after fiery kick was delivered to his ribs.

"Thought you could kill me, hmm? Too bad isn't it? Now you get to die!" He screamed and something broke, and he heard that dark laughter again, so cold, so cold! Icy laughter that echoed in his mind and promised unimaginable horrors and chilled his very soul.

Marik numbly thought that this was not how it was supposed to be, that their roles should be switched and it should be _him _delivering the blows, holding all the cards and the power and the other on the floor, before more pain shot like a rifle through his body and he gratefully succumbed to the embrace of black unconsciousness.

00000

"You?" Widened cerulean eyes narrowed quickly in disgust as the question was spat at him. Of course, Marik had been expecting to receive this sort of reaction. His appearance always seemed to be the exact opposite of what was expected.

"I send for a hitman and this is what I get? Is this some sort of joke?" He almost sighed. Just once he wished that someone wouldn't take one look at him and think that there must have been a mistake.

He understood why it was so hard for his employers to wrap their minds around the idea of a person that looked like him being a highly skilled assassin, but that didn't make the same reaction he received time and time again any less tiresome. They all expected to get a muscle head on steroids, not tiny, skinny Marik. And he was beautiful, which was also not expected. With his bronze, sun-kissed body, long flowing golden hair, and exotic, one of a kind lilac eyes, he looked more like some sort of male model, not a hardened killer. Still…

"It's no joke, Kaiba-san. He is the one you sent for. He is Malik," Rishid said from his right. From the look on Kaiba's face, he obviously did not believe this to be true. Well, Rishid had tried his luck. Not it was Marik's turn.

"In this sort of job, huge bulking muscles are not helpful. You need to be lithe and slender, swift and able to move around stealthily. It's for this reason that many assassins are actually female," Marik replied tactfully. He kept his voice smooth and calm and friendly. He'd learned that it was much easier to keep your employer happy and thinking that he was in charge instead of trying to undermine his authority. Especially for someone as used to having power as Kaiba Seto.

"Should that make me feel better? Or maybe I should get a woman to do this job for me?" Kaiba sneered.

"Would you like for me to prove my skills?" Marik retorted quickly with a grin. Before he could prove anything he felt Rishid's hand on his shoulder to hold him back. He turned to face the larger man, who shot him a look and Marik's grin faded. Of course. Keep your employer happy.

"I assure you Kaiba-san, Malik-sama is very skilled. You won't be disappointed," Rishid soothed. Doubt still shown clearly on Kaiba's face, but his angry expression melted into a cocky smirk, full of arrogance, as he laced his fingers together under his chin.

"He better be. I paid a lot of money for this. Now, let's move onto business…" Kaiba opened a large briefcase at his feet and shuffled through a few objects before apparently finding what he was looking for, He took out a manila file and tossed it to Marik. He deftly caught it in mid-air, then opened the file to see who would be his unlucky victim this time. He recognized the face that glared up at him as a mob boss who'd been quickly rising through the ranks to become quite well known. Immediately he caught onto Kaiba's problem, and exactly why he would want this specific person killed.

"He's become quite powerful recently and very popular, and it's proving to be problematic for me and my company. He needs to be gotten rid of," Kaiba explained shortly. Of course. So this other mobster was competition for Kaiba and KaibaCorp.

Kaiba himself was a powerful mobster as well, arguably the most powerful around. He dealt with activities that brought in the big money. The weapon and drug trafficking, and even smaller things like the bringing of illegal aliens into the country, for a price of course. Kaiba had gotten enough money from his illegal activities to start his own company, KaibaCorp, which produced machines having to deal with holograms. But all that was just a clever cover to keep the police away. Underneath its facade, KaibaCorp was a huge network of smaller groups of mob bosses who all worked under Kaiba. KaibaCorp and its boss were huge. If this mobster Kaiba wanted him to get rid of was powerful enough competition to make him nervous, then Marik wondered exactly how mighty this other competitor must be. He felt his mouth stretch into a half-smirk. Hmm… maybe this would be interesting…

"Alright, I'll do it. When do you want me to go?" Marik questioned eagerly.

"The very moment you are able to. That is, if you don't think you'll get yourself killed. I wouldn't want all my money to go to waste," Kaiba answered, smirking evilly. Marik flashed a chilling grin of his own right back.

"It'll be worth your every penny. I'm the very best there is. No one ever survives an encounter with me," Marik said smugly. Oh, would he show Kaiba. He was the great Marik Ishtar, known to the world as Malik. Kaiba may be the most powerful mob boss, but Malik was the most feared name among all hitmen. And he would prove it to the rich brat in front of him gladly.

As Marik left the room with Rishid he took one more look at the file in his hands. There was the picture of his target again, a man with white hair and grave brown eyes. An arrogant smirk played across his lips. The file stated his name as Bakura.

_Bakura, I'll be making your acquaintance soon. And then I'll be sure to wipe that smirk right off your face._

00000

He awoke in darkness. For a few seconds, he thought that maybe the whole night had been a dream. Then came the pain. Agonizing, throbbing, wild pain that made him squirm and whimper for it to go away. His head and face felt like someone had taken a hammer and smacked him around with it more than a few times. Every breath he took brought intense pain to his chest, and even the slightest movement felt like knives were being embedded into his chest. Blood caked his body and clothes, and had he been able to withstand the pain enough to look at his appearance he would have been repulsed. Instead he lied still, curled up on the floor with his arms wrapped around his ribs, softly whimpering.

Marik didn't know for how long he lied there. The pain was too much for him to handle and he couldn't concentrate or think about what his next course of action should be. His inability to handle the pain was humiliating, but he could hardly think of the shame he would feel had anyone seen his weakness. It was all too much for him to handle at first.

After some time had passed, impossible to tell exactly how much when the room was drenched in darkness, the level of pain he felt either receded or his endurance to it increased. He still could not move, but was able to form together coherent thoughts. A step up, but not much of one.

He first took a quick inventory of his body and the state he was in. His face was pulverized, his nose in all likelihood broken, along with as many as three ribs. A multitude of cuts covered his arms, nothing too serious, but enough to have caused fatigue and large amount of blood loss. Obviously not enough to be fatal, but whether or not that was a good thing remained to be decided. As for movement, it would be hard, but quite possible.

Not that it looked as if it would help much, Marik thought wryly, amazed that he was able to find a sense of irony in this horrible situation. He was skilled at being able to see in the dark, but without even a hint of light that skill was useless. In this inky blackness he could make out nothing. It would be better to wait until he could see and to save his strength than to fumble aimlessly in the dark.

He winced as he shifted into a marginally more comfortable position, closed his eyes and went over the events that had caused his downfall. He'd been cocky. Cocky and arrogant, thinking that this would be a mission as easy as most of his were. He'd overestimated his skill and underestimated the job. And if that wasn't the very first lesson he'd learned too.

"_Never make presumptions! Those are the very things that get you killed!"_

Well, he'd made a very grave presumption and now he was paying for it. And even before making his dreadful error, he'd already messed up by bragging so carelessly to his employer. That haughty attitude of his had caused him to go into the mission thinking that there was absolutely no way he could fail. He wasn't the best hitman in Domino for no reason. His ratio of assignments completed to those failed was much better than most others, so it was almost a given that he would succeed here, as he usually did. And from that moment on things had only gotten worse.

Breaking into the house had been easy, but almost the very moment he'd stepped inside his luck had diminished and soon he'd bumped into a chair and made the noise that had caused the first intruder to come looking for the source of the clatter. It was as if he'd forgotten everything and was back on his first mission again! No, even that had turned out better than this. He was a disgrace.

Before his thoughts could go further, a blinding light erupted from the ceiling of the once dark room and Marik cried out in pain as his retinas burned and he moved his arm to shield his eyes, body protesting against the painful movement. Still making sure to cover his eyes until they adjusted to the sudden intruding light, Marik pushed himself off the ground, slowly, struggling not to cry out and show his weakness. The identity of the person invading the room was not known to him, and it was crucial that he not show how beaten down he really was. If he could at least make it appear like he still had his strength… maybe he would get lucky. And prevent his almost guaranteed death.

As he shakily stood, pushing his beaten and broken body much further than he had before, pain flared up everywhere, Intense, red hot pain and agony. He wanted to stop the activity that caused him such anguish, but if he did he might as well be pleading for his death. He had to be strong. Had to deal with this pain, like he had in the past. Gravity threatened to send him crashing down to the ground, but still he rose.

He had to remove his arm from his eyes to steady himself as the ground lurched when he took a tentative look. The light stung, but in comparison to the rest of his aching body it was bliss. His ribs screamed for him to stop the torment, and his brutalized nose throbbed with pain every few seconds. The pain was fierce and tried to overcome him, but Marik pressed on. He had already messed up. There was no hope of salvaging his assignment, but he would escape if the situation presented itself. He wouldn't allow his weakness to deprive him of his chance for freedom.

When his eyes adjusted to the light fully he took a quick glance at his surroundings only to see that there was nothing he could use as a weapon. He next focused on the one who had entered the room. He saw ivory white hair and assumed the worst. Bakura.

"Oh! I didn't mean to startle you! Please sit down before you hurt yourself!" The intruder said. The sincerity and worry in the voice perplexed Marik, and he wondered if he suffered from a concussion along with his other injuries. Assuming his head was fine, unless the man was acting as he had in the hallway, this person was not Bakura. The idea didn't cause Marik any measure of relief. At least with Bakura he knew what to expect. This new person was a riddle, one most important to solve. And fast. Nice or not, Marik had learned his lesson well that looks and actions could be deceiving in this house. He wouldn't make the same mistake again.

"Please sit down! I'm Ryou, not Bakura!" The white haired teen pleaded. Marik warily looked him over again. It was indeed true that this teenager was not Bakura. His appearance was exactly the same, softer somehow but still alike, but his eyes and face shone genuine worry. Worry and apprehension. No, this was not Bakura, but the other teenager from the hallway, the catalyst of his downfall.

"So? You think just because you told me your name I'll trust you?" Marik sneered, voice hoarse and raspy. Such a normally simple activity cause him to immediately begin coughing. Pain erupted from his chest and he gasped sharply and bent over, clutching at the area emanating the pain.

"Please! I have food and medicine! I just want to help," The intruder, Ryou, said. Marik heard him approach but he couldn't move. He knew that he needed to get away, but his coughs racked through his body and caused him more pain, and he couldn't stop. For all he knew this teen could have a weapon and be planning his death and he could do nothing because he was so weak!

"Here. It's only water. I promise." Against his better judgment, Marik grabbed the cup that was offered to him and greedily drank from it. The raucous coughing stopped but the water did nothing to ease him of his agony. The teen that looked so similar to the one he'd been assigned to kill gently took him by the arm and helped him to sit on the ground. His body still ached but the fiery burn that the action of standing had caused faded.

"What are you doing?" Marik questioned once his coughing was finally under control, regarding the person sitting across from his suspiciously. The faintest pink color appeared on Ryou's porcelain cheeks as the boy ducked his head. His white hair fell in front of his eyes momentarily until he brushed it away and smiled.

"I'm helping you," He answered sweetly. Marik stared at him with incredulous wonder.

"Don't you realize what I am? I'm an assassin. I was sent here to kill someone," He said slowly, as if he were talking to a child.

"I know," The teen answered.

"Then why would you be helping me?" Marik questioned. Instead of answering, Ryou busied himself with a pack he had sat beside his legs. He opened it and took things one at a time out. The first was a bottle of water, then came a large, white first aid kit. After those items he pulled out a plate covered in plastic wrap with what appeared to be spring rolls on it. Marik watched him intently to be sure that nothing more came out of that package that could be a weapon. Nothing did, and his tense body relaxed slightly.

"I'm helping because I want to. Because I don't believe that you should just be left here to suffer when you're in pain," Ryou answered finally. Marik moved his searching gaze back up to the pale teenager in front of him. He gazed behind his soft smile and into his inviting brown eyes for any sign of deceit or cloaked anger, any kind of ill intent at all, but he could find none. The boy's mentality was as innocent as his appearance suggested, unless he was more adept at hiding those poisonous thoughts than Marik was at finding them. And Marik knew that if there had been even one murderous thought he would have sensed it. It was his life after all.

When he chose not to speak Ryou unwrapped the plate with the spring rolls and offered one to him. He eyes it first, then gingerly reached out to grab it and brought the food to his nose. He carefully opened the spring roll to not get any of it on him and looked at the insides. No meat. Good. He gave it a sniff to be careful, but the food smelled as it should. He took a slow, deliberate bite and chewed thoughtfully, making sure to taste it thoroughly. Once he was positive that the offered food wasn't poisoned, he wolfed the spring roll down and grabbed a second one.

He was mid-way through the second one when Ryou burst out laughing. His body tensed and Marik stopped his chewing immediately. He inspected the second spring roll to find anything out of the ordinary, but nothing presented itself to him. Next he glared suspiciously at the one who had given him the food.

"What?" He asked irritably.

"Funny," Ryou laughed cheerfully. "The way you eat."

"You think something as important as checking for poison or a concealed weapon is funny?" Marik deadpanned. Ryou's laughter abruptly cut off. As his face fell drastically Marik felt a sense of achievement.

"P-poison?" He squeaked, "Y-you think I would..."

"Poison my food? Yes," Marik answered, certainly not missing the troubled look of horror that came to the other's face. "That or weapons. A razorblade maybe. As I'm sure you can imagine, it wouldn't be very enjoyable to hastily bite into your food and have your mouth be mutilated. Something like that causes a lot of damage and blood. And it's deadly effective, unless of course the aim was to get information." Marik watched his face carefully, noting every twitch and flicker of emotion that passed. The other teen had paled considerably and looked utterly repulsed, and strangely enough, as if he were close to fainting. This was amusing. He hadn't even said anything exceptionally grisly, and his companion already looked this queasy? Had the kid never seen a gory horror movie?

"People actually do that?" Ryou asked quietly.

"More often than you would think. But shouldn't you already know about that? From you close resemblance to Bakura, I would assume the two of you are related. You should know better than most what he does," Marik phrased carefully, watching intently with his inquisitive lilac eyes.

"Bakura's not-! He-! ...He doesn't do those sort of things," Ryou mumbled almost inaudibly. He lowered his head and his fluffy white bangs fell to obscure his troubled brown eyes. Marik inwardly smirked. Bingo.

"I-I'll just leave this here. Nice to meet you." Without allowing Marik to catch a glimpse of his face, Ryou got up and hurriedly removed himself from the room, leaving the water bottle, the first aid kit, and the spring rolls. Marik watched his retreating form with interest, faintly amused by the loud sniffles he heard coming from the other teen before he left the room and shut the door, presumably locking it.

So... Bakura was just as bad as he had presumed. Made sense. Almost all mob bosses were. It came with the territory. And Ryou knew it. The quiet, ashamed and almost fearful tone of voice, the way he averted his eyes and kept his face hidden, his abrupt exit, and the stiff movements he'd used to leave all pointed out that Ryou was quite aware of what was going on. And Marik had gained another interesting piece of knowledge. These two teens, Bakura and Ryou, were related. Ryou hadn't denied it when he asked if they were. From the huge similarities between the two of them and the way Ryou had defended Bakura, Marik guessed they might even be as close as brothers.

Suddenly the events that had caused his downfall and capture all made sense. A large amount of the responsibility for this horrible situation was his fault, but a portion of it was Kaiba's as well. If the man had bothered to tell him that his target had a sibling that looked exactly like him, perhaps he wouldn't have been so confused by the similarities between his victim and the intruder. If he got out of here, he would throttle the rich mobster.

Speaking of escape, since Ryou had left Marik looked around the room he was trapped in for the first time. It was a small, square, nondescript room with grey brick walls and a hefty, bolted steel door. At the upper part of the door was a small window, about fifteen inches across and eight inches tall, with three chunky vertical metal bars dividing it. The room looked like a solitary prison cell, was even complete with a toilet and sink in the upper right corner of the room and an old threadbare cot in the left one opposite. And I'm the prisoner, Marik thought dryly.

Seeing as no one else was coming to visit him in his cell, Marik grabbed the first aid kit Ryou had brought. He needed to be prepared for if the not-so-nice brother came to see him. Even if the only thing this kit would give him would be some gauze pads and band-aids, at least it would be better than what he had now. Which was nothing, since he'd been stripped of all his equipment. Smart man, this Bakura. He wasn't going to let there be any mistakes. Of course, Marik still had a few surprises up his own sleeves…

Marik couldn't help but to smirk when he opened the kit. Evidently Ryou had also come to the conclusion that a few band-aids and a gauze pad wouldn't be extremely helpful as well, because the first aid kit was packed. There were gauze pads and band-aids, but there were also spools of athletic, waterproof, and sterilized tape for bandaging wounds, antibiotic creams, and what looked like pain relief medication, among other things. Nothing he could use to arm himself against Bakura of course, unless the male was dimwitted enough allow himself to be poisoned. But it was something, and he had never been one to turn aid down. Not when he really needed it. More useful was that it looked like he had an ally in Ryou.

He picked up the telltale bottle of medication and turned it with interest. Codeine. That wasn't over the counter medication. You needed a prescription. Interesting. Did Bakura deal with the illegal sale of prescription drugs also? The idea sounded likely. And if so, had Ryou filched these from his brother's stash? Very interesting indeed. From the little Marik had seen of him, Ryou seemed like the type to play by the rules. Was this a rebellious streak?

The bottle of codeine had a rolled up tube of paper on it. When he unrolled it he saw hastily written directions on it. The kanji tilted downward and had obviously been written in a hurry, but the strokes still managed to be graceful and neat. Marik sniggered, though it hurt his chest to do so. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought a girl had written it. The nicer of the two look alike brothers had a feminine sort of grace about him, so it didn't surprise him all too much to see the girlish handwriting.

The paper said that each pill contained 30mg of codeine, and that he was able to take one every four hours and to have no more than eight a day. The pills would help to reduce his pain.

He dry-swallowed one of the small, ordinary circular white pills easily, then placed the bottle back and set about methodically cleaning and bandaging each of his wounds with the items in the kit. This work was easy, and his mind wandered. He'd been lucky to have his visitor be Ryou. He was still unsure about the teenager that had helped him, but he doubted that he had to worry too much. Ryou appeared to be harmless. The one he really had to worry about was Bakura. He still had no clue as to what the powerful mob boss would do to him, but it wouldn't be anything good. He needed to be prepared for when his visitor was the cruel brother, so he truly was lucky that the nice one had given him these supplies.

When he finished he made his way to the think cot and lied down on it to rest. He felt tired, and he seemed to be safe for the time being, so he would take the time to sleep and regain his strength. Until he could escape, or his captor would come to decided his fate, there was nothing else to do.

* * *

Yay for first chapter awesomeness! And it was awesome, was it not? Well the next chapter will be even better, heeheehee! Like I said, I'm really liking this idea of mine. Like, a lot. So much so that I even did research for it! (Which I normally never do) I had to research pain medication for broken bones and came up with codeine. Yay for research! Anyways, please review, because reviews make me very happy!


	2. Imprisoned

Hi peoples! Egh, so I'm here with an update! It took quite a while because I lost internet for two months. Actually, I still don't have it back now, but I've been allowed to use my dad's computer so I can put this up. Yay! One quick thing though that I'd like to mention: There quite a few mistakes in this chapter. Not spelling mistakes hopefully, but just some words I had wanted to change around to make things flow better. I had them all highlighted, but for some reason all my highlighting has disappeared on me, and I really don't feel up to going through the whole chapter again. I'd much rather just get it up, and I'll fix everything at a later date. So there won't be any chages in the chapter or anything, just a few different words to make everything run smoother. Okay! Thanks for your patience, and here is the chapter!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh. I also do not own the poem I quoted from.

**EDIT 9-3-12:** Nothing much has been changed. Just some cleaning and tidying up.

* * *

"I believe you owe me some money."

"Kaiba-san, please understand that Malik will finish the mission. There is no need to go back on our deal." The young mob boss's head spun around quickly, and sharp cerulean eyes flashed angrily.

"Unless I am mistaken, you just insinuated that _I_ was the one going back on our deal. Is that correct?" Kaiba asked coldly. The authoritative tone he spoke with suggested he was used to being in a position of power and tolerated no views different from his own. Had Rishid not been the master of controlling his facial features and tone of voice that he was, he probably would have said the wrong thing in such a situation. This powerful young man reminded him much of Marik in that both were used to getting their ways and could be quite the brats if they didn't. Luckily, he'd received more than enough training with Marik on how to handle such haughty behavior.

"My mistake Kaiba-san. Of course, if you wish to have your money returned to you then I will not stand in your way. But if I may say so, I still firmly believe that Malik is just fine. He hasn't failed a mission yet, and I highly doubt that he will now," Rishid stated, with just the barest hint of pride lacing his otherwise steady and soothing tone. Kaiba snapped his fingers and a blonde with an unruly mop of hair collected the suitcase filled with the money from their transaction and handed it to Kaiba. The rich boy opened the case and briefly scanned the contents to make sure everything was in order, then set the full gaze of his hard sapphire eyes back on Rishid.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe your assassin will be fine. But I doubt it. You underestimate Bakura's skills. Do you really think that snake would become as well known as myself without some worthwhile skills? He's a sadistic, ruthless bastard, and more likely than not he's already captured and killed Malik. But if you want to waste your time following vain hopes, then be my guest. I won't stop you," Kaiba gave him a cold smirk and Rishid decided he did not like this man after all.

He was similar to Marik, that was true. The two were both powerful and capable of going great things, however you chose to look at it. They even had a similar attitude. But Kaiba was heartless and uncaring, a rich kid who'd never had a trouble in his life and was more than content to sit behind his grand oak desk and order others around to do his dirty work. Marik was different. He acted heartless, but he had gone through great pains when he'd been younger. He'd experience more than this pampered young rich boy ever had, and for that reason Rishid knew that Kaiba was wrong. Marik would succeed, just like he had with every mission before, and then he would return to flaunt his victory in Kaiba's smug face. Rishid was sure of it.

"If you don't mind my asking, Kaiba-san, who do you plan on taking care of your problem now?" Rishid questioned. Kaiba's uncaring smirk grew wide, and he snapped his fingers again. The blonde with the messy hair opened the door and a curvy woman with huge blonde hair dressed in mostly purple strolled in. Her just as purple eyes locked on Rishid and she laughed.

"Rishid baby! Nice to see you again! This mean little Malik is involved with this assignment as well? Oooh, must be a hard one huh?" Rishid flinched as the woman put her arm around his shoulders, completely uncaring that she was invading his personal space. Kujaku Mai, known as Harpy. If Marik was the first best hitman in Domino, then she was the second. It figured that she would be the one Kaiba would call.

"This is a one man mission. Malik had been sent on it first, but he has yet to come back," Kaiba explained.

"Yeoch. Too bad huh? I knew he was too young to be taking on this business. Hmm, guess that means I'm number one now!" Mai exclaimed cheerfully. Rishid resisted the urge to say something, and instead moved away to escape the clutches of her talon-like grasp.

"Yes well, you'll only be number one if you can succeed where he failed. If you end up as just another waste of my time and my money, you won't be the best of anything," Kaiba interrupted. "Now, come here and I'll give you your money and the file. Mutt, you can show our guest the door now." The blonde standing near the door jumped to attention with a sheepish look on his face, as if he'd been caught doing something bad, then slowly scowled as he realized he'd been called a name. He opened his mouth to shout a quick retort, then thought better of this action and closed it, content to glare at the young mobster.

"Right 'dis way," He said sullenly, motioning Rishid to the door but not once taking his honey-brown eyes off Kaiba. Rishid exited, and could have sworn right before he left he saw the blonde stick his tongue out at the mobster, who was too busy talking with Mai to notice. He shook his bald head, marveling at how some carefree kid could have gotten himself into such a bad business, and how different he was from Marik. Marik would never act so childish.

Thinking of Marik made Rishid wonder what his ward was doing. He knew that no matter what Mai and Kaiba thought, Marik was skilled enough to get out of any trouble he encountered, if he was even in any. Without a doubt he would be fine, and he would finish was he'd been sent to do. All Rishid had to do was wait for his return.

00000

Bakura always had fun watching his prey. It was funny to see their attempts to liberate themselves from their prison. Of course that never happened, but it was still a great source of amusement. Everyone tried to escape. Everyone failed, but a rare few had gotten close. At the time it hadn't been a fun experience, but after everything had been sorted out and the problem had been dealt with, he'd learned a few things about bettering his security. Now he doubted anyone could get out of the small prison room.

And unfortunately, if anyone did have a chance, it wouldn't be this person. This wasn't the first assassin that he'd had to deal with. There had been others, although few in number. And out of those others his current captive looked like the worst one. It had been easy to trick him, and from the look of surprise on his face the fool hadn't even known about Ryou. Inadequate information and easily fooled. It was like someone was trying to pull a joke on him. The only question was who.

"Well, that I'll find out soon enough," Bakura mused out loud as he greedily watched his captive's every movement. The room his guest was situated in was a small, square room with cameras in each corner. Every inch of the room was revealed to him, so there was no possible way he could miss something. That included the little stunt his brother had pulled by bringing in food and the first aid kit. Normally such a blatant show of disregard for his authority and rules would result in a punishment to the aforementioned brother, but Bakura chose to let this little slight slide. With how horrible this assassin was the extra help would hopefully only make things more interesting.

It was a shame though, what he had done and what he would undoubtedly do to his assassin. He may be a rookie, but the teen who had tried to kill him was terribly beautiful. Even with the broken nose and bruised face, he could still see that the hitman was certainly not hard on the eyes. No, he was something to look at all right, and that made it hard to know that regardless, he would have to be killed. But he did wish he had directed more of his hits to the hitman's chest instead of his face.

The video screens showed his captive standing in front of the steel door, inspecting it. Bakura smirked. What a great time to pop in and catch him unaware? A little surprise, and then he would find out who it was that wanted him dead.

As he walked out of the security room he ran into Ryou. His skittish brother yelped at the sight of him, then fumbled around with something in his hands and quickly hid it behind his back before Bakura could see what. Nevertheless, he wasn't stupid. Obviously Ryou was doing something he would find wrong, else he wouldn't bother hiding it and looking away with flushed cheeks.

"Doing something bad Ryou?" Bakura asked mockingly.

"N-no! Of course not!" Ryou exclaimed quickly.

"Really?" Bakura questioned, dropping the sarcastic tone. He grabbed Ryou's slender arm and yanked it out from behind his back. Ryou cried out in pain but the sound was drowned out by the clatter of the objects he'd held behind his back as they dropped to the floor.

"So you wouldn't be bringing food to my prisoner then, would you?" Bakura sneered. Ryou cringed at the harsh tone he spoke with, then cast his eyes downward to the mess on the floor. A broken plate and smashed sandwiches, as well as a spilled bowl of soup and a bottle of water.

"Well Ryou?" He yelled. He yanked the slim arm again, but the figure of his brother was unresponsive. He kept his head down and his gaze averted. His body was limp and he allowed himself to be yanked. He always acted like this. When Bakura so much as rose his voice Ryou went completely still and allowed himself to be yelled or pushed. The behavior disgusted Bakura. He would never act in such a submissive way himself, and it was almost an insult that his own brother gave up so easily.

With a disgusted sneer he pushed Ryou away from him. It was by no means a hard push, but Ryou allowed himself to fall to the floor without trying to steady his footing. He landed in the spilt soup, and his light blue jeans began to darken with the liquid, but he still did not move.

"You're pathetic. An insult to our family," He snarled. Ryou flinched as if he'd been hit. "Stay away from the prisoner. If I catch you in there again, I'll do worse than yell, and you know I will," Ryou did nothing, and Bakura angrily stormed away.

Stupid, stupid Ryou. How could they look so similar but yet be so different? The gentle, angel-like Ryou and himself, cold, cruel, dark, merciless, and uncaring. He understood why he was the way he was, but how had Ryou turned out so weak and spineless? Their childhood hadn't been an especially good one, and their situation now wasn't much of an improvement. How had Ryou not grown strong like he was? How had he become such a sniveling pushover? Sneaking food to a hitman and then not even bothering to stick up for himself? Pathetic.

He pushed his brother from his thoughts. He had a prisoner just waiting to be interrogated. What more could he ask for? He wasn't going to let Ryou spoil his fun. With a smirk plastered on his lips, Bakura reached the door to the single room he kept the teen hitman in. He input the 12-digit code to enter to room, then when it had been verified as correct and the door opened, Bakura stepped inside.

The hitman stood in the middle of the small room, legs bent and spread out, body taunt and ready like a bowstring pulled to its limits. When he caught sight of his captor he darted for him with something grasped in one hand, but Bakura was ready for a trick like this. He dodged the attack quickly, but not before he heard the sound of his shirt ripping and felt pain in his side where something sharp had nicked him. His captive swung his arm again and the object he held glinted in the light. Bakura had a second to think before what must have been a blade came at him again. He ducked as the blade swooshed over his head and threw his fist into the abdomen of his attacker.

The hitman cried out and fell to the floor in a curled position to gingerly cradle his ribs. The object he'd had dropped to the floor. Bakura scooped it up. A razor. Slightly bigger than most were, and stained with his blood. He pocketed it, then savagely grabbed the dirty locks of his captive and yanked him to his knees.

"Where did you get this?" He demanded. He yanked the fistful of hair he clenched again and brought the hitman closer to his body. Instead of whimpering again the assassin began to laugh. Bakura scowled and tossed the hitman away from him. He stayed crouched on the ground, still laughing, then slowly unfurled himself and stood upright. Bakura's inquisitive eyes slowly followed up the uncurling body, taking in every aspect of his would-be killer.

He was lean and slender, the ideal build for an assassin. Mocha-colored skin covered his ample muscles, but most of the showing skin was mottled with ugly purple-black bruises along with abrasions and cuts. His face was covered in just as many cuts and bruises, and his nose was broken, but as Bakura had seen earlier, even with all of those injuries he was still very good looking. Underneath all of those injuries his face was slender, with good cheekbones and a hard look of determination even as he was still laughing. His hair was covered in grime, sweat, and blood and hung in lank strands around his face. It looked like it was dirty blonde in color, but it was hard to tell for sure with how filthy it was.

He wore black, form-fitting clothes, and strangely enough, jewelry. The large, golden bands adorning his neck and arms and the golden earrings reinforced Bakura's idea that this wannabe murderer was a rookie. Surely such accessories would only prove to be a hindrance instead of any help in a mission largely preoccupied with stealth. The shine of them and the jangling they were bound to make would give away his position. Still, Bakura's eyes were drawn to them greedily. He'd always liked shiny things.

Out of all the many things, the most interesting aspect about this hitman, Bakura noted, were his eyes. He'd never seen anything like them before. They were a brilliant lilac color, and even in this place they sparkled with determination and strength and sly cunning. They fascinated Bakura, and for a brief moment he fathomed that he should allow himself to become lost in their lilac depths and completely forget about this interrogation nonsense.

After that small second of lunacy Bakura tore himself away from those eyes. They were dangerous, he decided, maybe the most dangerous aspect of this hitman. He had to remember to be careful of that.

Bakura's face morphed into a smile and he took a calculated step toward the other inhabitant of the small room. Not too close, but still closer than he'd been before. The hitman's laughter abruptly cut off and he looked at him with deliberate lilac eyes, but he did not take a step back. Not close enough for that sort of behavior, but still close enough to feel the beginnings of careful apprehension.

"I'm sorry, that was very rude of me. Where are my manners? How about we start over again? Hello, my name is Bakura. And yours is?" He kept his tone light and friendly and even extended his hand as if he were awaiting a handshake. No such thing would happen, they were still too far away for that, but they were also far enough away that Bakura could be sure the hitman wouldn't try anything with that outstretched hand. His captive's eyes briefly fluttered to the offered hand, then returned back to his face and Bakura watched as his captive's carefully sculpted expression subtly became guarded. Interesting. His ploy wouldn't work then. Although his attempted assassination had been poorly planned and executed, at least the hitman was smart enough not to fall for this. Interesting indeed.

"I'm not going to give you the answer to that question either," The hitman said. His voice was authoritative and arrogant, like he was used to being in charge, but to Bakura, who could easily relate, that wasn't entirely unappealing.

"I didn't really expect you to give away that information willingly, but it would have made things so much easier for you if you had," Bakura sighed, not sounding the least bit sorry and knowing it. Interrogation was no fun if the victim just lied everything out of the table straight from the get go. He took a step closer, than another, and the hitman took one back. Now they were too close, but Bakura continued his advances. The distance between them didn't matter anymore. Now it was time for answers.

"I'm assuming you're out of weapons to pull on me. Else you would have by now," Bakura grinned. The assassin's pretty face gave nothing away but Bakura knew he was right. He had backed the other teen into a corner of the small room and was closing in fast. If he still had an ace up his sleeve he would have used it by now.

Bakura struck first and aimed for the ribs. He'd probably broken a few of them last night, and it was the smartest and fastest way to get him down. The assassin was expecting this and tried to get away from it but he was trapped. Bakura kicked him but the other teen grabbed his foot before he could land it. He tried to yank himself away but his captive's grasp was strong. Bakura was brought toward him as his leg was pulled, and then the other teen raised his own foot and kicked him in the face.

Pain exploded behind his eyes in the form of bright light. Bakura was stunned for a moment, but he quickly gathered his thoughts and threw his fist at the assassin before he got out of reach. Luck was on his side for his random punch hit his captive straight in his chest. The pained noises that came from him as he crumpled to the cold tile floor after another blow were entirely satisfactory.

"Now," Bakura said, smirking, as he kicked the teen again and brought forth a pained gasp for his efforts, "how about you tell me what your name is?" The hitman shook his head and Bakura kicked him again, and again, and again, and now he bent down and picked the crumpled figure off the floor and threw him against the wall. And again, and again, and now he was the one laughing, laughing cruelly as he slammed the slender figure around some more. He gave him a chance to answer the question but his captive only slowly shook his head again. So Bakura lifted him up off the floor by his blonde locks and made those hypnotic lilac eyes watch as he smashed the assassin's long, slender fingers with the heel of his boot. That produced delicious screams when he ground those fingers into the unforgiving floor, but still no name.

Next came the blade. It was a long, curved switchblade with a jagged edge and a smooth black handle that Bakura kept on him at all times. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was the very first thing he'd bought back when he was just starting out as a mobster and had finally gotten into some cash. It was dearer to him than anything else, including the life of his worthless brother. His blade had been soaked with the blood of many and was the perfect tool for this task.

The blade was brought out in a reverential sort of way, like it was actually something sacred instead of a switchblade. Bakura cradled it to him, then slowly he brought it to the bronze skin of the assassin and slid it downwards, leaving crimson in its wake. The assassin still refused to talk, so Bakura cut him some more, each cut going deeper than the next and each making more of that wonderful crimson blood. It looked so beautiful when it flowed out of the body, and the sight of it on tanned skin, combined with the screams...! It was more hypnotic than those eyes could ever be, and it egged him on, urged him to cut more.

Bakura was lost in a fantasy of crimson and bronze and the stained silver of his knife. It was art, and the screams and whimpers and the sound of sharp silver cutting through flesh and clothing was intoxicating music. When the time to stop came he felt infuriated. He didn't want to have to stop, not now, not ever. But some part of his mind still sane and not consumed by the power he felt when he wielded his knife cautioned him that if he continued his captive would die.

A noise brought him out of his dark thoughts. Bakura looked from his knife to his captive, who was slumped against the corner of two walls. He raised his head and rested it against the wall. Blood trickled down from his cheeks and his mouth and head. His blonde hair was limp and bloody against his face. He looked like he were dead already, but for the noise that came from his opened lips. He was laughing.

Before he could control his actions a furious rage possessed Bakura and he threw his fist into the hitman's face. His lips were pulled back in a snarl and his eyes were aflame. In this moment Bakura looked more like a rabid animal than a well-established mob boss.

"What are you laughing at?" He threatened. The assassin spat on the floor and looked hard at Bakura with chillingly dark mauve eyes. Those eyes pierced through Bakura's fury. And for a second, just a second, Bakura felt afraid of those eyes. Gooseflesh broke out on his skin and the hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end. The air around them was charged with electricity. Those eyes... they were different now. Before they'd been hypnotic lilac, but now they were mauve, dark mauve... There was something wrong about them... The feeling of fear left as quickly as it had come, but the hitman's eyes didn't return to normal. And the electricity didn't leave the air.

"'Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage,'" The assassin quoted. "No matter what you do, I won't tell you anything." He grinned. His lips stretched back in a way quite similar to what Bakura had done, but instead of looking angry he looked like he were crazy. Bakura clenched his fist together so tightly the skin of his palm broke.

"We'll see about that," He growled. He turned around and stomped over to the door, took the key to the door out of his pocket and with it unlocked the cover of the number pad next to the door. He input another 12-digit code and opened the door, then quickly locked it and left the hitman inside, still against the corner of the room.

He was furious. Bakura didn't like being bested at anything, especially not something he was good at. His captive hadn't told him anything at all, not even something he had already known. And if this failed interrogation showed anything, it was that his would-be killer had a great tolerance to pain and was planning to keep him in the dark about everything. Well, he wouldn't let that happen. One way or another he would get what he wanted. He just needed to think of a way to acquire that information. No second-rate assassin would best the great Bakura.

00000

Ryou didn't know what to expect when he walked into the prison room. He knew that Bakura had been in there and he'd been in a terrible mood. From previous experiences he knew that Bakura could be very vicious, especially when he had a temper. He knew it would be bad but he wasn't sure how bad. He came prepared with a first aid kit, lots of bandages and antibiotics, and medication that he'd liberated from Bakura's storage. He knew that Bakura would know about what he was doing and he wouldn't be happy, but Ryou had to do it. He wouldn't just leave the teenager all alone in that tiny room with no supplies and no way to take care of himself. He just couldn't. Even if it was true that the teen was an assassin.

Ryou had seen what Bakura did when he was angry before, but even so, he was still surprised to see what had happened to the already gravely injured teenager. When he first entered the room he thought Bakura had gone too far and actually killed the occupant of the small, prison-like room. There was splattered blood on the walls and floor, and the teenager was slumped against a corner.

He dropped the supplies he'd brought with him and ran to the side of the injured teenager. The moment he got close the teen's eyes shot open and Ryou gasped. He stopped in his tracks for a moment, startled, then continued on slower when the alert lilac eyes on him settled and became weary and tired. Ryou knelt on the ground beside him.

"Please don't worry and stay still. I'm going to help you, alright?" Ryou said softly. The assassin nodded and Ryou got up again and slowly helped him to his feet. He made no noises of pain or outward signs of weakness, but Ryou could tell he hurt all the same. It was in the tiniest of flinches he made when a tender spot was touched or the way his face twitched in the smallest way because of the pain. Ryou had learned from Bakura to read the emotions on his face, and pain, while it hardly ever made an appearance on the face of his brother, was as easy for Ryou to spot as the emotions Bakura did wear, like anger and agitation.

He led the teen to the cot and lied him down on it. It creaked and groaned in protest. It was old, so old that fact that it hadn't broken yet really could be considered a small miracle. It had used to be a forest green color when it was new. Ryou could remember sleeping on it when he'd been younger, but now it barely looked like the same cot. It was faded and dirty and stained with things Ryou didn't want to know about. Probably rusty too. It needed to be replaced, but he didn't dare suggest that to his brother. And Bakura wouldn't get a new one anyways. It would have to do. Better than the floor at least.

Once Ryou was sure he had situated the injured teen as comfortably as he could, given the circumstances, he took a rag with him and wet it at the sink. He crinkled his nose at the state of the sink and toilet, just two more things that should be changed but never would. After all, a prisoner's stay here was not supposed to be pleasant. And they usually didn't stay long enough to mind.

He put the rag down for a moment when he returned to the side of the cot to dig inside his pocket. He produced a white pill.

"Oh, I think I forgot to bring a cup with me. I'm sorry, but I don't have any water to give you this with," Ryou said, frowning. He was the only help the people Bakura kept as prisoners here would get. His brother wouldn't help them. No one would but him, and how was he supposed to do even that when he forgot to bring something as simple as a glass of water with him? Sometimes he thought Bakura was right when he said those things to him...

"Doesn't matter. Give it to me," The teen said suddenly, startling Ryou from his thoughts. He nodded and handed the pill to the teen, who dry-swallowed it.

"What was it?" He asked.

"A Vicodin. I'm not sure how many milligrams it was because the label was mussed up, but I know it's stronger than the codeine. I know I shouldn't be giving you both medications, but I was afraid the codeine wouldn't be strong enough to deal with the pain. Soon I'll have to put you back on it, but by that time the pain should be more manageable." Unless of course, Bakura hurt him some more. Then maybe even a Vicodin wouldn't matter. Or anything. "I hope that's okay?"

"That's fine."

Ryou nodded to himself and picked up the rag. He slowly began to wipe off the blood covering the teen's skin. He worked carefully and gently, but sometimes even that didn't matter and the teen made noises of pain. It was slow, monotonous work, and every so often he had to walk to the sink to rinse the blood out of the rag. He was terrified that any moment now the steel door would open up and Bakura would come strolling into the room, demonic smile in place, and he would have nowhere to hide. Bakura would be angry. More than angry. Furious. He would grab him and drag him screaming out of the room into the other room, the dark room. And then he would leave him there. Ryou knew it with as much certainty as he knew that you needed to breathe to live. Bakura would throw him in that room and would leave him there.

_Click._

Was that the door? Was Bakura coming in now? Ryou froze. The door was opening, the big steel door, and that was Bakura, smile in place, eyes set fixedly on him with such intensity they almost seemed to glow a fiery red, but at the same time so cold and hard they looked like glassy sharp granite that could cut him with a glance. The red eyes scared Ryou, but it was those sharp granite eyes that haunted his nightmares. Those eyes were cold and gray and dead. Dead.

"Dead Ryou. You'll feel like you're dead in that place. But it's your own fault isn't it? Because I gave you a warning. I told you _exactly_ what I would do to you, and didn't listen. You didn't listen. Now you'll go there, and you'll feel like you're dead Ryou."

He did feel dead. The rest of him was still alive, still bled, still cried, still screamed, but on the inside, on the inside Ryou felt like he was dead when he was in that place. Dead like Bakura's eyes. Eyes that were coming closer, closer, and an outstretched hand, pale white, a long, cold, corpse hand, reaching, reaching, take you to that place Ryou, that place where you'll feel dead–

"Hey!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Please! Don't take me there, don't!" Ryou screamed, shutting his eyes tightly. A hand touched him–

(A cold hand, cold and dead, a corpse hand)

–and Ryou backpedaled away from the hand and screamed.

"_DON'T!"_

"Ryou!"

Ryou tore open his eyes. The demon disappeared. There was no Bakura. The steel door was closed. Only the other teen in the room looked at him, the hitman with the lilac eyes. No one else was here. No Bakura.

"I-I'm sorry," Ryou said quietly.

"What happened? You were screaming and your entire body was shaking. You looked like you were convulsing or something," The teenager said. Ryou looked at him, then at himself. He was still trembling and a sheen of cold sweat coated his body. He had clenched his hands into fists and as he opened them he saw bloodied crescent shaped marks on his palms.

"I... It was nothing. I'm sorry," Ryou said. The teen didn't say anything more about it and Ryou was grateful. He continued his work efficiently and as swiftly as he could. When he had cleaned away all the blood he started to dress and bandage the new wounds the hitman had acquired. The Vicodin began to take its hold on the weary and injured teen. He didn't talk much, but now when he did it was slower, like he had to think about the words now, and sometimes his speech was slurred.

"I don't understand you."

Ryou looked from his work to the assassin who was watching him. Even with the Vicoden in his system his eyes still looked as awake and alert as ever. He supposed it was a side effect of his profession. This wasn't the first hitman Ryou had met, and he knew that they were a suspicious and careful bunch. They had to be. This hitman was no different from the others, but he was much younger. He was probably only a year or two older than Ryou himself was, closer instead to Bakura's age.

"What do you mean?" Ryou asked. He took a minute to answer, probably to work out all of what he wanted to say.

"Well, you're Bakura's brother aren't you? You look too similar to be anything else. But you're different from him. I can understand him perfectly. He is what he is just like I am what I am. But you're something else. He does what he's supposed to, but you do the complete opposite. You're helping me for reasons I still can't grasp. I don't understand you," The teen repeated.

"Well," Ryou started, "I do what I think is right. That's all. Bakura does certain things because... it's what he thinks is right... At least... that's what I'd like to believe. We all just try to do what's right, don't we?" He smiled, and hoped to get one out of the other teen but instead he only looked more confused.

"How about you?" Ryou asked, changing the subject. "You're quite the mystery too. You're young. Older than me, but still too young to have such a profession, aren't you? Why do you do it?" Not a great question apparently, because the teen stiffened and for a minute his eyes grew distant. Then they refocused and looked more like an angry lavender than the lilac they'd been before. Ryou found the change fascinating.

"It's just something that I do," He replied stiffly, angry lavender eyes just daring him to ask another question. Ryou took the hint and he backed off. The two fell back into silence and Ryou continued on with his task.

He wondered. He wondered about Bakura and what he would do if he caught him. He didn't wonder about that for too long because his mind strayed to the dark room–

(_"You'll be dead in there"_)

–and thinking of that wouldn't be good for either of them. He wondered about this hitman and why he was here. He was beautiful, Ryou could see that clearly. Under the bruises and wounds and injuries there was a very handsome young man that could make silly girls swoon with a grin and a wink. He wondered why that young man was here, injured like this. Instead of out on a date to the movies or for dinner. Why would anyone willingly choose this life? Questions, so many questions.

It seemed to take forever, but Ryou accomplished his task. All of the gruesome marks and wounds his own flesh and blood brother had made on the lean, tanned body of the hitman were covered beneath gauze and bandages. The teen even looked half-reasonable now, except for the ugly dark bruises that covered his face and the broken nose. Those Ryou couldn't hide under the rug. Those would be visible until they finally completely healed. Until that day they would be a constant reminder of the damage his older brother did.

"There! All done now! I was going to bring a change of clothes with me but I'm afraid I forgot that as well. Sorry. I'll have to bring them when I come next time with food," Ryou said with a smile.

"It's fine. I'm more comfortable with these clothes anyways," The teen dismissed. Ryou looked him over once. Most of his clothing was torn and bloodied from the things Bakura had done. Parts weren't much more than rags.

"I'll bring them anyways. Maybe you'll change your mind. I guess I'll leave now. You should rest," Ryou advised. The hitman didn't thank him or even reply, but that was fine with Ryou. He hadn't expected him to.

He shivered when he touched the cold steel door. He expected it to swing open any moment and let in Bakura, who would rage like a demon and lock him up in the room. He scolded himself and used his key, then input the code to exit the room. There was no Bakura waiting for him in the hallway, smiling in his menacing and intimidating way. Not in the hallway, nor anywhere in the house on his way to his room. Everything was deathly silent. Maybe he was gone or out doing business. That was more likely than not, but Ryou still expected to open the door to his room and see Bakura waiting, smiling, offering him a cold hand to lead him away into the darkness where he was dead.

00000

Mai was busy preparing for the task at hand when she heard the knock. She knew right away that it was Rishid. He was one of the only ones who knew that the glaringly obvious, mostly purple and silver RV parked outside the KaibaCorp building was her home away from home after all.

Mai hated the RV. It was hideous, even if she had managed to find one in purple. And it guzzled gas like there was no tomorrow. Trust the Americans to make something so inconveniently convenient. It totally cramped her style and maintaining it cost quite a pretty penny but still, it was cheaper than living in hotels whenever she was out doing a job (which was frequently), and it made packing a helluva lot easier. Not that she really needed to pack much (needed being the key word, as Mai was frequently found guilty of bringing along items that had no purpose in being brought), and her profession did pay quite well, it was just more often than not Mai spent what should have been hotel money on things like clothing and beauty supplies. So, horrible RV it was. And even though the thing stood out like a sore thumb, people tended to avoid it, which was always a good thing when one made killing their living.

"Rishid baby! Nice to see you! So what's up?" Mai asked as she led Rishid in. She led him inside the cramped RV and pushed him down on a seat, then she hoped on top of the table and sat on it with her legs crossed. Rishid cleared his throat and made sure to look up only at her face. Mai almost laughed at how uncomfortable and out of place he looked. Somehow she had that effect on most males.

"You're going after that Bakura person, aren't you?" He asked carefully. Mai smiled. He always thought of exactly what he was going to say before he said it. Rishid was pretty smart, and very calculating. Not that that side of him always showed with Marik running the show, but the moment the younger Ishtar was out of the picture...

"Course I am! Harpy runs from no one!" Mai announced triumphantly.

"Will you keep an eye out for Marik?" Rishid asked slowly. Mai suddenly became silent. There was a lot of mystery surrounding Marik Ishtar, and the Ishtar family in general. It was a well-known rumor amongst the hitmen on Domino that the Ishtars always made the best assassins. Of course, with the way each assassin jealously guarded his or her real name, it was only a rumor. Everyone knew that Malik was the name of the best assassin out there. But not everyone knew that Malik was really Marik Ishtar. Mai was only aware of this information because her life continually seemed to be intertwined with Marik's. In her quest to reach first and best hitman, Mai and Marik had formed what could be called a very shaky friendship. She knew his real name and he knew hers. But that was about all she knew. She wasn't even positive if Marik was related to Rishid or not. All she knew was that the two of them were very close, and that Rishid was Marik's number one supporter. If Rishid wanted her to look out for Marik then he must be worried.

"You don't really think anything would have happened to him, do you? He's very good at what he does. Do you really think some punk mobster would be able to get rid of him? That Kaiba brat doesn't know what he's talking about. You'll see. Marik will come back soon and then Kaiba will have to dish out even more of his money because I'm certainly not giving one cent of what he gave me back. So stop worrying Rishid!" Mai said cheerfully. She slapped him heartily on the back and he made a horribly half-hearted attempt at a smile. She was surprised his face didn't crack. In all her years of knowing Rishid she had never once seen him smile and now she knew why. The poor guy was rusty!

"I'm sure he'll be fine too, but it's better to be safe than sorry, right?" Rishid questioned.

"This job is all about taking risks. If young mister Marik can't handle the heat he should stay out of the kitchen," Mai remarked. After seeing the almost concerned look on Rishid's normally carefully chiseled face she quickly changed her tune. "But yeah, I'll keep an eye out for the kid. Safe is better than sorry."

"Thank you Mai," Rishid said, standing. He took her hand and held it for a moment in a show of gratitude, and Marik found herself almost blushing. She was used to males being power-hungry chauvinist pigs. She could handle that very easily. But Rishid was sweet and grateful, and that was something she did not have much experience with. Now she was the one who felt uncomfortable. Strange that she was perfectly fine hanging out with a guy who was likely to grope her, but the gentlemanly type made her uneasy.

"No problem! But you owe me Rishid!" Mai said quickly and snatched her hand away. She hopped off the table and led Rishid to the door. He thanked her again and left. Mai shut the door to her RV and leaned against it. She sighed and shook her head.

"What am I getting myself into?" She muttered. Once upon a time she had been a loner who wouldn't do anything for anyone. It was that attitude that had made the idea of being a hitman so appealing to her. It was the perfect job. Always dangerous, always a thrilling adventure. It was a lonely job, but that was perfectly fine for her, and it gave a person quite the reputation. When she succeeded in becoming one and making something of herself, she discovered that it really was the perfect job, but perhaps not as lonesome as she'd hoped for. Now here she was doing favors for her rival. Really.

"Agh, whatever. I'll watch for Marik and in return I better get a nice slice of that money Kaiba will give him!" Mai said. She pushed off the door and set about again getting ready. Kaiba had told her to go in a few days, so she had plenty of time, but Mai wanted to be ready now. It was much better being prepared than being caught unaware. And then she could spend her extra time going shopping around this part of town. She could just smell the bargains to be had out there.

00000

It had been three days since Marik's encounter with Bakura. His wounds were healing nicely thanks to Ryou's treatment, and most of the time those days had been spent pain free. A little hazy, but still no pain. There were times of the day when Marik had to deal with the pain, like when Ryou slept a bit longer than he should have or when he was at school and could not come to give him a Vicoden. The younger brother and Marik's personal nurse had decided that since he was using a more efficient medication, he would keep both the bottle of Vicoden and codeine so Marik couldn't take them himself when he was not allowed.

While the respite was appreciated, staring at the same four walls and knowing that somewhere you were being watched by camera was very annoying. He wanted to do something, or to have something interesting happen. He'd already inspected the padlock on the door millions of times. It looked like he would need a code and a key to get out. He knew both brothers had a key (and that Ryou's would be easy enough to liberate), but because of the cameras in the room, more often than not whenever he got close to the door and the pad someone would come by and bang on the steel door as a warning. He had a feeling it was Bakura, but had yet to actually catch sight of his arctic-haired tormentor. Even without that nuisance, a 12-digit code was hard to break without equipment. Of which Marik had none. He was lucky as it was that the razorblade he'd kept under the golden bands on his arms hadn't been found. Not that it had really helped as it was, but...

Ryou had come and brought him clothes to wear like he'd said. Marik preferred his old clothes because even though they were ripped and torn, they still provided him with more protection than regular clothes. The vest he'd worn over his black tank hadn't been as powerful as body armor, but it was heavier than regular fabric. And his black cargo pants were a favorite of his. But they were dirty and grimy, and Ryou had also brought soap and shampoo and conditioner with him. Marik was able to wash his hair out in the sink and could at least clean the sweat and blood off his body with the water. He abhorred feeling dirty, so he had taken the new clothes instead of putting the dirty ones back on. Now he was dressed in a white, slightly oversized t-shirt and jeans. Definitely not the articles of clothing he would have chosen, but he really couldn't be picky, now could he?

Marik crossed his arms behind his head and sighed. Ryou had come in only a little while ago to give him a Vicoden. When he took one it was hard for him to concentrate and made the world strangely fuzzy. Bad things for an assassin, but it dulled the pain, and that was good. Between the pain and the medication, Marik chose the medication. Especially when he wasn't doing anything other than to lie here on this cot and stare at the ceiling.

He needed to get out. Maybe Rishid would come to his rescue. It would be embarrassing to have to be rescued, but Rishid wouldn't tell anyone of course. His reputation wouldn't be damaged. By now Rishid would have figured out that something was wrong. And despite what anyone said, Rishid was just as capable as he was. Rishid would come to help him. Of course, it would be much better if he could just rescue himself.

Marik hopped off the cot and walked to the number pad. If he had a key he could unlock the covering and then try his luck with the code. He just needed a way to get rid of those cameras. He had already inspected those too and found that he could do nothing to them without tools. He could always try covering the lens with something, but that would look suspicious. It would be just as much of a red flag in the air as any other ideas. And besides, he first needed a key. He touched the covering over the number pad, then the key hole. Maybe he could make a mold of the key somehow. It would raise less suspicion than snatching it from Ryou. But no, he would need the correct tools for that too.

_Bang!_

Marik took a step away from the door and grinned ruefully. "Yeah I know! Stay away from the door, right? Wouldn't want your prisoner getting out!" He called. There was no reply and his grin stretched a bit further.

"That's right. Keep me here as long as you want, but I'm still not going to make things easy for you," He mumbled. He had almost made his way back to the thin, dirty cot when he heard the sound of the steel door opening. What luck.

Marik darted to the door just as it began to open. He saw a pale hand and he grabbed it. His instinct told him it was Bakura, and if he moved fast enough he could immobilize him and take this chance to escape. Maybe he could even kill his captor like he'd been hired to.

After Marik grabbed the pale hand everything suddenly happened too fast. Another hand came at him lightning fast. Marik braced himself for it but when the hit came it still hurt like hell. The fist had gone straight for his ribs like he'd known it would. Fiery pain that even the Vicoden lacing his system couldn't control spread through him like a crippling venom that threatened to overcome him. Marik struggled through it and endured the agony. He kept his hold on his captive's hand. This was his one chance. His one chance to escape and be free from this prison, and he wasn't going to mess up now. If he did he may not get another one. He had gone through worse before and he had survived. He would do the same now, no matter what, so he kept his grip strong.

Bakura grabbed onto his other hand just as Marik yanked him into the room. He raised his knee up and drove it into his captor's chest. Bakura snarled at him and broke one hand free of their grapple to fish something out of his back pocket. Marik only saw a flash of it -it was something metal- before it was clamped down around his free wrist and an elbow slammed into his chest. Marik stumbled. He only took a half-step back to put some distance between the two of them so he could catch his breath, but it was enough for Bakura to yank him closer to the door.

The arm with the metal object around his wrist was pulled up to the bars on the window of the door. Marik caught another glimpse of the metal object and he saw they were handcuffs. He fought furiously against Bakura bringing his other arm up to the bars as well and managed to kick him, but his struggle didn't deter his captor. The white-haired mob boss brought his arm up the bar and clamped the open handcuff around his wrist. Marik struggled and yanked against the bar but it held firmly. Bakura laughed from behind him, that cruel laugh that somehow managed to send shivers up his spine.

"Lookee what I've caught," Bakura drawled from somewhere behind him. "A delicious little prize."

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Marik struggled against the handcuffs and the bar. He was in the worst possible situation. He was still injured and still a bit hazy from the medication, and now he was trapped by the same person who had taken such delight in hurting him only three days ago, and was probably a certified crazy. Worse, he couldn't even see Bakura or what he planned on doing to him, and could only move a matter on inches on both sides. He was completely at the mercy of his captor.

"Now now, there's no use in doing that." Bakura's voice came to him from somewhere close enough that he could feel hot breath against his ear. Marik swung his head in the direction of the voice, hoping to catch him off surprise and headbutt him, but the phantom voice had already moved to his right ear.

"You won't be able to get away. Struggle all you want," Bakura chuckled.

"What do you want?" Marik demanded. Bakura laughed.

"Hmm," He mused, "I think I want to have a little fun. You know, you aren't too bad now that you've been cleaned up." Marik yanked at the handcuffs a final time. He had no more luck now than before. He tried to turn around so he could at least see Bakura, but there wasn't enough chain between the two cuffs to perform such an act. All he could look at was the bland steel door, and beyond that the bland empty hallway.

Suddenly Marik was slammed against the steel door. It was cold and hard and he shivered. He could feel Bakura pressing against him, and he was reminded of the night he'd come to this hellhole, when he had had Bakura's body against his own. He'd been the one with the power then, but now their positions were switched and he was the defenseless and helpless one.

He felt Bakura's equally cold hand brush against his waist and he jerked away from the touch. His movement caused him to back up more into Bakura's body, which was something he did not want to do. He tried to struggle out of his captor's grasp but the handcuffs made it difficult and before he could move the other teen shoved him again against the door. Marik tried to buck away again but this time Bakura pushed his face right up against the cold steel.

"Like I said, you can't get away." From this angle he could see Bakura's face, and he could see the demonic smile he wore. Marik's struggling stopped. For a moment, he was afraid. Then he pushed off the door again to dislodge his tormentor from him. Bakura slammed him into the door again, this time not so gentle and not so careful. Marik's nose smashed into the door and immediately began to gush blood while the new bout of intense pain chased away all the side effects of the medication he'd taken. Now the world was startlingly clear, and he saw that if he didn't get out of this situation fast, he was going to be feeling a lot more pain very soon.

Again the cold hand touched him, but Marik did nothing. He didn't like it, but touch was not dangerous. Bakura could do whatever he wanted right now, and in the mean time he would come up for a plan of escape. Bakura had to have the key to the handcuffs on him somewhere. If he took his captor by surprise he should manage to dislodge him. Then he could try again to turn around so he could see. He'd stretch his arms and maybe tear a ligament, but that was a sacrifice that would have to be made. Next he would kick Bakura and knock him out, and try to find the key and maneuver somehow so he could unlock the cuffs. A hard task, nearly impossible actually, but he knew he could do it. He would have to be able to do it.

The hand on his waist that just a moment before Marik had thought not to be dangerous suddenly darted like a striking snake downwards to the waistline of his pants. Marik froze. All thoughts of planning and escape hatching in his mind vaporized. He stopped breathing.

"Oh? Well well, look at that. Either you're very uncomfortable with what I'm doing," Bakura said, pausing. He leaned in close enough for Marik to see him, close enough for Marik to feel strands of arctic hair brushing against his skin and hot breath against his neck, close enough for Marik to headbutt him and put his escape plan into motion. But Marik didn't do this. Didn't notice anything except for that hand. His mind was blank.

"Or you'd like for me to continue," Bakura finished, smiling eerily. His hand trailed downward still, until it found the zipper to Marik's jeans. Slowly the zipper came down, and Marik found it in him the ability to breathe again.

"Don't," He said softly, voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't get anything else out besides that. "Don't."

"It's a little too late for that, my assassin. I gave you the chance to answer my questions but you wouldn't get off your high horse. And you had the guts to taunt me! Now if this is the way I have to get my answers then so be it. Beg all you want, but I won't be changing my mind," Bakura sneered.

"Don't touch me," Marik repeated. Bakura paid him no heed, only continued with the task at hand. Marik's breathing became fast and ragged and he started to sweat. When skin touched skin he jumped like a bolt of electricity had been shot through him. He bumped into Bakura and to get away he jumped forward, but that only made the pale hand touching him press harder against him.

"Heh heh heh heh. Did you enjoy that? I've got more coming, don't worry," Bakura cackled. He opened his hand and then squeezed it around Marik's lower area. Marik gasped as both pain and pleasure shot through his body. Bakura did it again and he produced the same reaction.

"Stop it! Don't touch me!" Marik yelled. He thrashed against Bakura wildly. The handcuffs jangled against the bar but they kept him as their prisoner. Bakura squeezed him again and with dreadful horror Marik realized he was beginning to respond to these painful yet pleasurable actions. He could feel himself becoming aroused and his boxers were beginning to grow restrictive.

"Do you really want me to stop? Because it doesn't seem like it." He could hear the smile in Bakura's voice.

"Stop it! Now!" He yelled again. In response to his pleading Bakura ran a rough hand up Marik's hardening member and rested his fingers on the head.

"Then what's your name? Who sent you here? And why? Answer my questions and I'll leave you alone. Might even let you go," Bakura bargained. Marik stayed quiet. Bakura flexed his fingers around the head of his length in a way that sent shivers up his spine and aroused him even more. The motion made Marik want to scream out for him to stop, that he would tell him everything as long as he let him go. But another part of his mind screamed at him that he couldn't do that, couldn't tell this mob boss everything. He was a Tomb Keeper and the best assassin in Domino! He couldn't give in to something like this! He couldn't!

"No. I won't," Marik said in a shaky whisper. Bakura flexed his hand and encircled Marik's length, then slid his hand down it slowly. Marik's body trembled.

"Then I suppose we'll continue," Bakura murmured silkily. He continued with his agonizingly slow movements, sending dark pleasure coursing through Marik's system every few seconds like a mind-numbing drug.

Marik felt sick and horribly dirty for being touched like this and enjoying it. Because he did enjoy it. His body was responding to his torturer's soft caresses and strokes. His legs felt weak and his breathing was hard and ragged. He bit his lip to keep any noises from escaping him but it wasn't always any use. Gasps found their way past his shut lips and even worse were the moans that made him sound like some dirty, wanton thing.

While his body enjoyed this treatment Marik's mind screamed for it to stop. He couldn't tell if he wanted to puke or to die. He wished Bakura had hit him some more. He could take the pain and the injuries. Even if the medication were taken away he would still rather feel the agony of his wounds than this. He felt like a piece of dirt. He just wanted it to stop, wished it to end. He wanted to talk but couldn't. He couldn't tell. If he did he would be even worse than dirt. He wouldn't even matter. He would be worthless.

The more Bakura continued with his administrations the more Marik loathed himself and the closer he came to going over the edge. Sweat coated his body and his need ached and throbbed, ready for release. It hadn't taken a long time. Marik didn't participate in exercises such as this, preferring instead to take a cold shower if needed. It wasn't an unusual thing, but he had the feeling that Bakura was silently laughing about it. Just another way to add to his shame.

"Nh... ngh," Marik moaned. He couldn't hold it any longer. His hands clenched against the door and he laid his sweaty forehead against the cool steel. The hand on him abruptly ceased its rhythmic motion and squeezed on Marik's length hard. Marik cried out in agony and splayed his fingers out against the steel.

"Stop it!" He yelled. Behind him Bakura laughed cruelly. He grabbed a fistful of blonde locks and yanked Marik's head back harshly.

"Stop?" Bakura questioned coldly, "Why would I do that?" He squeezed down even harder on Marik, who cried out again. "Did you forget that this is supposed to be an interrogation? I'm not here for your pleasure, my prisoner! I'm here to get my answers!" He yanked Marik's head back hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. "_Now answer me!_ What is your name?" Bakura's tone was cold and sarcastic and furious. He meant business, and now Marik's groin was beginning to ache and hurt in a way that wasn't so pleasant.

"I can't say! Now let me go!" Marik shouted. Bakura squeezed him hard enough to make him yell as a reply. Marik banged a fist against the door. The pain was excruciating. He needed release, but with the way Bakura was squeezing him that was not going to happen. He had to get his captor to stop, but there was no way to without telling him everything. He needed it to stop. He was used to feeling pain and could endure it easily, but this was an entirely different kind of pain. This kind he couldn't handle.

He banged his fists and cried out again as Bakura delivered a particularly painful squeeze to his genitals. He closed his eyes to block out the pain and concentration on his mission, on what he needed to do to get out of here. The moment he closed his eyes it only got worse.

Marik saw him. Saw him looming over him, strong and powerful like he'd always been, both face and eyes coldly stern. Marik's blood ran cold and he froze. He didn't move, he didn't breathe, he didn't blink. Suddenly the room he was in seemed very small and continued to get smaller. And while the room shrunk his fear swelled like a tsunami and crashed over him, drowning him in it. All of a sudden Marik felt very tiny and very alone and very powerless. His body shook and trembled like a hapless leaf caught in a tornado.

"_P-p-please... don't..."_

"_Silence brat!"_

He saw him raise his hand. He had enough time to move, he knew he did, he always did, but he was frozen in place. All he could do was watch as the hand came closer and closer to him.

"Tell me what your name is!"

"It's Malik! Malik!" Marik screamed. He opened his eyes and he was gone. The hand gripping him loosened and Marik's abused member throbbed painfully. Marik laid his head against the blessedly cool metal and panted heavily. His heart pounded against his ribcage and he shivered even though his skin and the air around him was hot, very hot.

"Malik? I know that name. It's the name of the number one assassin, right? That you?"

He heard Bakura talking but it was all nonsensical jumble. He had talked but he didn't care anymore. He didn't care at all. All the fatigue, weariness, pain, and humiliation he'd accumulated over the past few days caught up with him all at once and he just wished he could fall to the ground and sleep. Just sleep and forget that this had happened. Forget that he had spoken and would speak more, forget that he'd been touched and his pride utterly and mercilessly crushed like an insect.

He'd been there. He'd been there and just like before, Marik had been unable to do anything. He could still feel the fear that had overwhelmed him. His body still trembled and shook erratically. _He'd been there._

The hand on him moved and Marik jerked away from the door. For a little while he'd forgotten where he was, but now he was brought back to reality by the aching pain between his legs.

"Listen up. You want this to end don't you? I'm sure you're hurting. Then just answer the rest of my questions and I'll make the pain go away," Bakura said. "Now, what's your real name? Malik is just the codename you tell your employers. I know how it works." Marik remained stubbornly silent as a last attempt, but Bakura gave him another painful squeeze and he couldn't take it anymore.

"Marik Ishtar! My name is Marik Ishtar!" Marik cried out. The grip loosened and now Bakura began to run his fingers lightly up and down Marik's shaft. His hard-on, which had begun to fade away because of the pain, came roaring back to life at just the smallest signs of stimulant, and his body screamed for release and an end to the pressure that had coiled up in his lower waist area.

"Good, good," Bakura drawled. "Now who hired you? And why?"

All the pain was gone, except for the constant, aching need for release, and now Marik only felt pleasure as Bakura steadily moved his hand up and down. He was too worn out to control himself now, and he gasped and moaned and shuddered with every movement.

"K-Kaiba Seto. He... a-ah... he wanted me to get rid of you... b-because you... you were competition," Marik panted. His tormentor was moving his skilled hand much faster now and again Marik was brought to the edge of his control. His breathing quickened and his fists tightened. He whimpered and panted like a damn dog looking for affection from its master. His tan cheeks burned with deep humiliation and shame, but he could stop himself from acting this way no more than he could stop Bakura from touching him.

This time Bakura didn't stop his slow pumping motion and didn't squeeze him or hurt him. His captor had been told what he wanted, and he relished in the control he had. Now he rewarded his assassin with what he had forced him to need. When Marik could hold out no longer he cried out and spilt his seed into his boxers and Bakura's hand. When he'd finished, Bakura removed his hand.

Marik's knees gave out. The only things keeping him up were the handcuffs. When Bakura unlocked those he crumpled to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. He finally saw Bakura's face and it was curiously blank. His hand was still soiled with the white liquid that had come from Marik. He crouched down to the floor beside Marik and brushed away the sweaty golden ringlets from his forehead with a clean hand. Marik looked up at him. They sat for a minute, silently looking. The broken, beaten dog and its victorious master. Then Bakura's mouth stretched into a fiendish leer and he leaned forward to whisper into Marik's ear:

"'Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage.'"

And then he left.

00000

Ryou came not too long after. By that time Mark had recovered enough to stop his body from trembling and to gather himself up off the floor where Bakura had left him. He knew that his captor's brother had knowledge of what transpired, and not just because he'd brought a fresh change of clothes with him. There were four cameras in this room, situated so that there were no blind spots. And even if there had been any, Bakura wouldn't have performed his "interrogation" somewhere the cameras couldn't see. He would want to have a tape of it, perhaps to gloat over his easy victory, and to show it to whomever else might reside in this house besides his brother. It was a way to show off his control and his opponent's weakness, and Marik knew that that was exactly what he had done, because had the situation been reversed, he would have done the same thing.

He could tell that Ryou had seen him in his moment of weakness because of the way he no longer looked directly at him. He hadn't done it much to begin with; maybe because he felt intimidated or out of politeness, but now from the moment he entered he didn't lock eyes with Marik once.

"I brought you some soup! And a change of clothes with your medicine," Ryou said with false cheerfulness.

"Oh. Thank you," Marik replied listlessly. Ryou placed the food, the clothes, and the medicine down on the floor beside Marik. The assassin felt the other's eyes on him, not afraid to watch him now that Marik's own bruised-looking purple eyes were fixed on the wall in front of him. He could have looked at the other and watched his discomfort as he would quickly break eye contact, but today that activity held no amusement for him. Today Marik had been broken and beaten, humiliated and left at the mercy of his captor. Today Marik wished that Ryou, who looked so similar to the one who'd stolen his pride and fire, wouldn't have come, would never come again so he could just curl into a ball and die.

A hesitant hand softly touched Marik's shoulder. Marik shot away from the hand as if it had burned him. His legs folded up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around them and he screamed.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" He yelled, eyes screwed tightly shut. But that didn't help, because he could see both of them, both of his torturers, one with a sardonic, contemptuous grin and the other with stern disapproval. And he was small and little and helpless.

"I'm sorry! Please stop!" Ryou cried, panic-stricken. Marik's screams stopped. He opened his eyes and uncurled his body. He was quiet.

"You can say my name you know. Don't act like you didn't hear it," Marik said. His voice was once again steady and strangely hollow. It was like the fit he had a moment ago hadn't actually happened. Without a doubt Ryou was already beginning to wonder if it had. But Marik knew. He knew that it had happened and he would remember it forever. He'd lost the strict control he had on himself and had freaked out. He had given in and told his captor all about his mission and who he was. He had gotten tricked and captured in the first place. Oh, have you heard of Malik, the best hitman in Domino? Not anymore. Now he couldn't even qualify for last place. He was a failure. Dirt. Filth.

"It's Marik right? That's a good name. It's nice," Ryou said politely. Marik didn't have to look at him to know that he was smiling. Vaguely, he wondered how many times Ryou smiled with such falseness. With a tyrannical brother like Bakura, he supposed it happened often. Did his friends as school notice that his smile never reached his warm mahogany eyes, or that it was his default expression? Smile sweetly and hide everything inside. He wondered absently if Ryou ever really smiled.

"Why don't you have some soup? It's nice and warm," Ryou suggested. He pushed the bowl of soup to Marik, who mutely gazed at it.

Seeing as Marik made no move to eat the soup or even acknowledge it with more than a bleak glance, Ryou got up, joints popping quietly as they moved out of their crouching position.

"Well, I'll be leaving then. Please eat the food Marik, and I left your pill on top of the pile of clothes. Be sure to take that too," He instructed. Then, before he opened the covering of the number pad, "I'm sorry about what Bakura did. …I want to say that he didn't mean it, but I'm afraid he did. But… please don't think badly of him. It's not… It's not only his fault. So please…"

Marik didn't say anything to that. He had a feeling that Ryou might have wanted him to, but it didn't matter, not really.

Ryou sighed heavily. And out of nowhere, like some terrible omen from an angry god, the world was plunged into darkness.

* * *

Okay, so that was chapter two! Haha, good wasn't it? I hope so anyways.

So, that quote that both Marik and Bakura said? It's from Richard Lovelace's poem "To Althea, From Prison" (I actually learned about it in Honors English this past year! Woot, school really does help you!) In the poem, the speaker is imprisoned by his enemy, but instead of despairing, the speaker says that even if his body is chained, as long as his mind can think and dream he will be free. I thought it was a perfect taunt for Marik to say to Bakura. And then the irony comes in after Bakura says it back to Marik. Because of the action he has just done, he has imprisoned Marik's mind as well as his body. It's even more ironic since the speaker in Lovelace's poem is talking to a lover of his.

A couple of other things now: I realized while I was writing that this chapter seems to revole almost continually on eye color. Just an interesting little thing. I don't think I mean to mention eye color so much, but it works. I also realized that when I normally write Thiefshipping, I tend to talk about Isis a lot more than I do Rishid, so it's sort of cool for me that I've got a lot about Rishid in here but no Isis. Go Rishid! He doesn't get enough screentime anyways, heehee. I also really liked writing about Ryou's fears of Bakura, and that last scene there with Bakura and Marik was also a favorite of mine. (Even if I am absolutely horrible to poor Marik! Ahh, I'm so mean!) It was really hard to write, but I think I pulled it off pretty well. What do you, my loyal readers, think? Also, do you think I should ahve ended this chapter with that section, or is the ending good the way it is now? Just wondering. I'm not going to change it or anything, but it'd be interesting to know nevertheless.

Okay, well that's it! If I get my internet back, hopefully I'll see you all soon with chapter three!


	3. Hook, Line, and Sinker

Hello my readers! I bring you all a present of chapter three! Yay! It's a tad short, but I'm pretty sure chapter four should be long like the second chapter was, so oh well. Anyways, have fun reading! Oh, and I'm telling you all right now, there's some bad language near the end of this chapter. Don't say I didn't warn you!

**Disclaimer:** Despite her best efforts, Black-Neko-Chan still does not own Yu-Gi-Oh.

**EDIT 9-3-12:** Nothing much has been changed. Just silly mistakes and this one area where I had Mai use Marik's name even though she obviously wasn't supposed to do that, in case Bakura was listening in.

* * *

And out of nowhere, like some terrible omen from an angry god, the world was plunged into darkness.

Ryou screamed. A blood-curdling scream of primal terror and fear in its most primitive, pure form. Marik smashed his hands over his ears to block it out. Normally he loved to hear someone screaming and to hear the fear in his or her voices, but Ryou's scream made him feel like he was about to be sick. Even with his ears sharply plugged up he could hear it echoing in his head and knew that he would never be fortunate enough to forget it. That scream would be back in his nightmares.

After the scream Ryou's voice had yielded to hysterical blubbering. Marik removed his hands from his ears and crawled forward on the ground, hands out in front of him, searching for the pale boy. The string of jumbled words helped lead him along. Out of everything Ryou said, the word he caught most often was "Bakura."

Ryou screamed again when Marik finally found him and touched his shoulder. The boy was hunched over and hugging his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth. Marik could smell the fear coming off him in undulating waves.

"Don't take me there! Don't take me to that place, Bakura! Don't do it! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'll do better next time, I promise! Please Bakura! Please don't take me there! I'll pay attention and do exactly what you say! I promise!" Ryou begged, rapid-firing sentence after sentence. Marik shook his huddled body, and because he couldn't see in the pitch-blackness to slap him, he grabbed the boy's silver hair and yanked it backwards roughly.

"Ryou! You are fine! Bakura is not here! The power just died!" He yelled. Ryou's trail of babble broke off. He couldn't see, but Marik could almost picture the teen looking at him with fresh, wide-eyed panic.

"He's... not...? I-I won't go there?" Ryou asked timidly.

"No. No one is taking you anywhere, all right? Everything is going to be okay," Marik said, forcing his voice to become lower and soothing. He released his grip on Ryou's hair and almost instantly the other threw his arms around Marik's waist and began to openly weep and blubber into his chest. Marik scowled, thankful that the dark masked his disgust. One hand he placed on the sobbing boy's back, the other gently on his head, and he cradled the teen to him.

Marik was a liar and a deceiver. He had acted to get his way before. But never had he actually been forced to comfort his enemy. His actions seemed to be another reminder of how low he had sunken. The strength and fear he used to command had been siphoned away from him and now he was just another no one. Pathetic. Filth.

The power was out and thus the cameras would be too. Ryou was helpless and weak in him arms. How he longed to gain at least some of that strength back and place his hands on either side of Ryou's head and snap his slender neck! But Marik did not do this, through that action would have been simple. The methodical and calculating part of his brain had taken over now that it sensed an escape could be near, and it had shoved all the petty insecurities he felt far away. They were deemed as useless and unnecessary now, and Ryou was valued as an asset.

He did not know the nature of Bakura and Ryou's relationship. He did not know how close they were, or how often they talked and if they appreciated and respected each other. What he did know was that they were brothers, and although Ryou seemed scared of his sibling, he also seemed to like the other. If he were able to escape, then Ryou could help him to do so. Killing the teen now would get him out of the way, but it might cost him a hostage and a way out. So for now the younger brother would live. Until he was no longer useful.

"I need for you to give me the key and the code to the number pad so we can get out of this room, Ryou," Marik said calmly. He felt the teen shuffle his head and heard the sniffling and weeping stop.

"I-I can't. If I do that Bakura will be mad…" Ryou sniffled quietly. Marik's fist tightened on the ground but he was otherwise able to control the signs of his growing impatience to leave this room and this place.

"I know that Ryou, but don't you want to get out of this room and out of the dark? I'm sure you have a flashlight somewhere around the house, right? Wouldn't you rather be safe in your room with the flashlight? Just tell me the code and give me the key," Marik suggested nicely. He waited for Ryou's response but the frail boy still in his arms only sniffled quietly. Marik's eyes narrowed and he tightly clamped his mouth shut lest he say something in his anger that would ruin everything.

"All right then. I guess you'll have to stay here, all alone and stuck in the dark," He said, voice low. He got the reaction he was looking for this time as Ryou yelped and latched onto him even tighter.

"I'll do it! I'll do it! Just please don't leave!" He whined pathetically. Marik smiled evilly as he felt hard metal in the shape of what could only be a key press into his hand. Good. The brat perhaps was useful after all...

Marik stood up carefully, helping Ryou up as well—who insisted on touching him—with soft encouragements and noises. It was slow work. Ryou didn't want to move, and if the two of them were separated for even a second he shrieked and was huddled on the ground again crying, and Marik would have to waste more of his valuable time coaxing him back up. For all of his annoyance, Marik did have to give him credit. Ryou would not give him the code. He said that he would put it in, and he made Marik give him back the key after he'd used it too. For how freaked out he obviously was, the younger white-haired brother was still able to think soundly.

He tried to make out the numbers Ryou pressed on the keypad but it was too dark and he couldn't see. Ryou apparently couldn't either, for he messed up several times before he input the correct code. Ryou opened the steel door and Marik stared out into the darkness of his future and his freedom.

"Don't leave me. I-if you do I'll scream…" Ryou whispered nervously. Marik gawked at the spot he thought Ryou was occupying. This kid, this _nobody_, was threatening _him_? Had the world all gone to madness? He surprised them both by laughing.

"Alright. If I leave you, you'll scream, and if you scream, I'll kill you. And then your brother will kill me. Now that that's decided, let's go," Marik laughed, sounding excited. He felt the same thrill in his blood he always experienced before going on a mission, and even though he was injured and broken and his abilities hampered by the growth at his side, he felt fine. He felt electricity in the air and it ran in his veins and suddenly it was all funny and he didn't care. He laughed again and the deranged noise bounced off the walls and echoed down the halls. And he knew that Ryou was looking at him strangely, and that somehow, he was a different person than the one who just an hour ago was left in a humiliated and battered heap after suffering the abuse of his captor. That was all behind him and now he was going to have some fun. He grabbed Ryou and dragged him into the darkness.

00000

Kujaku Mai, a.k.a. Harpy, watched with a gleeful smile on her plump lips as the lights in the household of her target fell dark. Everything was going perfectly so far. She had been expecting to have to break into the house to find the breaker for the lights, but a quick search of the outside had shown her that this was one of those old houses that still had their breakers outside. Jackpot. Rule #2: Always check out your surroundings.

The breakers thing really was a brilliant stroke of luck. The doors of the house all had alarms on them and the windows had cameras. It would have been a pain to try and successfully sneak past one of those without her whereabouts being known. Not impossible of course (especially not for someone of her stature), just not easy. Without the power, unless this guy has his own backup generator, those would be useless now. She wasn't too sure about the alarms though, so she steered clear of those. They could be linked to a police station and the last thing Mai wanted to deal with were cops. Especially female cops. Can you say _bitches_?

She went around to a window on the side of the left side of the house. The window was locked, but there was a latch on the inside. She opened the knapsack hanging off her hip and dug out her glass cutter. She smiled and started the tedious job of cutting a hole big enough for her hand to slip through the glass. Rule #4: Accessorize.

Once that task was over and done with Mai slid in her hand and pulled open the latch, then took her hand out of the hole and pulled open the window. It was a tight fit getting in but she succeeded eventually and slid soundlessly to the carpeted floor.

She was in someone's room, but other than that she couldn't make much else out in the inky darkness. She strained her ears to hear any noises like snoring or the rustling of bed sheets, but the room was quiet. Mai silently closed the window and tiptoed out of the room.

From looking at some old blueprints of the house, Mai knew that it should have one story and a basement. She also knew that her target was home from discreetly peering into the windows of the house from safely inside her RV with a pair of binoculars. (Rule #1: Know what you're up against.) Now that the lights had gone off she didn't know where Bakura was anymore. Unfortunate, but it wasn't like _that_ was going to stop her. She just had to keep her ears open and be careful. Nothing a top assassin like her couldn't handle.

After leaving the room she entered a hallway. There were more doors leading to more rooms, and she quickly scanned through all of them before heading back to wherever the hallway led. She stuck close to the halls and always listened and peered around corners when she reached them. The darkness of the house made it hard to see much more than faintly darker outlines of still figures. The moon was gone today and no light from the stars reached her. Her eyes weren't much help now, but her ears were still carefully tuned in to even the smallest sound.

Mai stepped carefully into the kitchen. Her shoes clattered against the tiled floor and she took them off, only putting them back on her feet after she had looked thoroughly through the kitchen. On the way to the living room she ran across a door that when she opened led to a staircase leading to what must have been the basement. She hadn't found her target yet, so she assumed he was somewhere down here. Before going down them she searched the living room and again found nothing.

Mai got her first clue that this was not a normal basement by just how far down the steps went. Most basements only went down a few feet, but in the dark this one seemed to go on forever. Eventually she reached the bottom and heard immediately what it was she was searching for. Breathing.

Calm and steady breathing, and the soft steps of footfalls on cement. Mai smiled in the darkness and took her .9mm from her hip-holster. She clutched it in both hands and took a few calculated steps toward the dark figure she was just now beginning to see.

She could hear the other person in the room slowly walking, breathing steady and calm. She wasn't sure if this was her target or not, but this person was still unaware of her presence and that was a good thing. When she got close enough to the person she struck out and in an instant had the muzzle of her gun pressed hard against the figure's skull and her finger on the trigger. Rule #3: Have a weapon on you at all times.

See, she thought to herself, this was why a gun was always better. It was much easier and much neater to use a gun. She'd tried telling that to Marik, but the stubborn brat had never listened to her, always insisting that a knife was sooooo much better. Well when she accomplished what Marik couldn't she'd prove him wrong.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The person snarled, his obviously male voice cutting through the thick silence _and_ her quiet ego-boosting. "I don't know how you got out, whether Ryou let you our or you escaped somehow by yourself, but I can promise you that if you do not get that gun away from my head _this instant_ I will treat you to a far worse punishment than before." His words burned with fury and Mai mentally increased the percentage that _this_ was her target. And… the information he'd just given her pointed to this assumption as well.

Marik had been sent here on his mission to kill Bakura as well, and according to both Rishid and Kaiba he hadn't returned. If this _was_ her target, then he obviously hadn't been killed, and taking into account the information she'd just learned, it seemed like Marik was been captured. That sure was a surprise, but all the same it made Mai smile. Number one her firm ass! Not once she told everyone and brought Marik's reputation crashing to the ground! Sorry Marik, but it's a dog eat dog world.

"It looks like you've mistaken me for someone else. Maybe a teen with tan skin and blonde hair? Ring any bells? Well either way, I'm here to kill you and rescue his sorry ass, so how 'bout you save me some time and just tell me where he is?" Mai questioned cheerfully.

"Ha!" He barked, "Like I would really tell you that!"

"Tell me or don't tell me, your brains are still going to end up splattered on the ground. You'll just save me some time," Mai said.

"You won't kill me."

"Won't I?" Mai questioned, pulling the trigger. He snorted.

"Hmm, how 'bout this? You tell me where he is and I won't kill the person you mentioned, Ryou was it?" Mai smiled.

"Go ahead and kill him. He's useless to me, so you'd be doing me a favor," He laughed. Mai frowned. How stubborn and cocky was this guy? Tch, this type was such a pain. Maybe she should demand a pay raise from Kaiba.

"Too bad you won't live to see it. I'll kill you before I go after him," Mai said. He laughed again.

"You obviously are greatly underestimating me. You won't be able to kill me. Your friend couldn't, and rumor has it he's one of the best. You really think you'll be able to do any better?"

Mai opened her mouth to respond, but her words died in her throat as at that precise moment a faint light appeared in the room and out of instinct her eyes flickered toward it. That was all he needed. The gun was knocked out of her hands and went off in midair. It clattered to the ground and both of them made a dash for it, but the handle was swept from her hand and then there was another gunshot. The flash of light from the bullet as it fired out of the muzzle illuminated two figures before it was dark again and hot lead tore into the flesh of her shoulder.

Blood poured out of the wound almost instantly and she screamed as the stinging pain hit her full force and within seconds her arm was drenched with the sticky liquid. She saw that the light that had distracted her was a flashlight carried by the one of the two figured. The flashlight fell to the ground as the smaller of the two shrieked. It blinked twice, then decided to remain on. No one picked it up. It rolled against the foot of the one who was still shrieking and blinked again before flickering back to life.

An insane laugh brought her attention back to her target, who was now fighting with the taller of the two figures apparently. One pushed the other to the ground (THUD! –she thought, for some reason finding it funny) and the two rolled into the light. A whirlwind of silver and gold. Then they rolled away and all that was left in the light was crimson, and it reminded her or her own.

Her shoulder was still bleeding and it suddenly seemed that the gold color she'd seen was very important. But how? She couldn't remember. She heard a loud gunshot and then the light was flickering again

(or was that just her?)

and after that was darkness.

00000

Mai jolted awake, eyes wide open and breathing heavily. Instant pain in her shoulder, and she clutched it while looking around at the room she was in.

"You're safe. Just lay back down before you reopen that wound. I figured you'd like the cot a bit better than the floor, though honestly it's not much of an improvement. Best just to lay back down."

Mai looked for the person talking and found Marik sitting against a wall close by a dirty looking sink. For a moment she couldn't believe that this was him and had to do a double-take. She blinked twice, but the beautiful and confident Marik she was so used to seeing didn't replace this beaten down person in front of her now.

His clothes were torn and bloody and dirty. His hair was limp and hung in front of his eyes, blocking them from view. His knees were against his chest and his bruised and mottled arms weakly wrapped around them. He looked horrible. Like some kind of monster had taken over his body and just… didn't care. She couldn't believe that this was still the same person. How could he have changed so much in just a few days? What had happened?

"Ryou took care of your wounds. He's Bakura's younger brother, you'll meet him soon enough. He's nice, even to people like us. He gives me food and pain meds. I'm sure there will be some for you too," Marik said listlessly. His sentences were broken and disconnected, like he was just rattling off whatever came to his mind. Mai briefly thought that maybe this was s result of the meds he'd been talking about, but it didn't seem like that was it.

"You were the one who fought against Bakura. I heard a gunshot. Were you hurt?" Mai asked. It was as close to caring that she could actually get. Marik was her enemy, after all.

"Nothing's injured on me except for my pride," He laughed. There was no humor in his voice at all. It was just as empty as the rest of him.

"What happened to you?" Mai asked carefully.

"Nothing," he replied, just a bit too quickly for Mai's liking. She got off the cot, ignoring the flash of protesting pain in her shoulder, and hunched down on the ground by Marik. She reached out to touch him but he scuttled away with almost inhumane speed and screamed.

"_DON'T TOUCH ME!"_

Mai recoiled, falling on her butt in surprise and yanked her head toward her. Marik's bangs had moved with his harsh movements and now she could see his eyes clearly. They were wide with fear, panic-stricken, the same look victims of a disaster wore. Shell-shocked and afraid of everything. In an instant she remembered that Marik was several years younger than her and now he looked more like a terrified child than ever before. Mai who had never been close to anyone, wanted to hug him and chase away whatever demons were causing him such anguish, but it was her touch that had made him like this in the first place.

"Hun…" She said softly, "What did he do to you?"

"_JUST SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE_!" He shrieked, clamping his hands over his ears and closing his eyes. Mai stayed still on the ground and just watched him. He actually started to rock back and forth slightly, quickly at first and then his rocking slowed until it stopped completely. The tension in his muscles and in the air very slowly dissipated. He let go of his legs and they stretched across the ground. His arms slumped against the floor and his head fell against his chest.

"I'm… fine. Just… a little messed up. I've been trying to get out of this place for I don't even know how long. Time stops in here, you'll see. It's just… been a little hard on me. Being here, with nothing to do but think… I start remembering things I'd rather not and it makes me a little crazy I suppose," Marik said, voice a little shaky but otherwise showing no indication of the state he'd just been in. Mai stared at him hard. He was obviously lying, but he was actually looking at her now, really looking at her. He wasn't hiding his gaze or staring at her with wide-eyed horror, but just looking at her normally, like nothing had happened at all.

"You've been gone for a little over a week," Mai said, moving back to sit on the cot. Marik nodded and then was silent. Mai didn't bother him again. She wanted to say something to him, get him to talk again and tell her what was wrong so she could help him, but she didn't think he would tell her anything. If that was the case, then there wasn't much for her to do other than to concentrate on getting both of them out of here. Marik obviously needed to get out. It didn't look like he would be much help in the matter though, so it would all be up to her. Until they got out then, Marik's problems would have to wait.

00000

Bakura was happy. Sure, he now had a couple of injuries from the scuffle he'd been in with his assassin (those included a graze wound from a bullet that had almost hit him when fighting with the gun and a lot of dark bruises) but those hardly mattered compared to everything else. After all, he now had two assassins captured in his trap. And what could be more fun than that?

He was currently on his way to the room where the aforementioned hitmen were both being kept. Apparently someone really wanted him dead if they had hired yet another hitman to do the deed. Well, they could go ahead and keep wasting their money because it wasn't going to happen any time soon. What he needed to do now was find out who was wasting their money. The first hitman, Marik his name was, had told him that Kaiba was the one who wanted him dead. There was a good chance that the new hitman had been hired by the same person, but there was always a chance that it was someone different. Bakura was optimistic. He thought it was the same person and had a feeling that he would hear this answer soon enough.

He unlocked the keypad and put the code in. The door was unlocked and he stepped inside. His new captive was sitting on the cot. She immediately shot up and glared at him hard. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders in a golden wave. One of those shoulders had been bandaged where she'd been shot, and that told him Ryou had been here. He was in too good of a mood to allow his brother to annoy him though.

"So the prick finally shows up huh?" The new assassin spat, glaring daggers. Bakura just grinned.

"At your service," He said, making a bowing gesture, sure to keep his eyes locked on this woman's purple ones. "Now that you know me, how about you introduce yourself?"

"Ha!" The woman laughed loudly. "He thinks I'm stupid! Oh what a riot!"

"Very well then. How about I ask Marik what your name is? The two of you seem to know each other after all," He smiled courteously. The woman's own sharp grin disappeared and her mouth opened dramatically in horrified surprise. Her demanding gaze shot to the forlorn figure of Marik.

"You told him your name?" She screeched. Marik flinched at her tone and covered his ears with his hands. His knees pressed tighter against his chest and his blonde head lowered.

"That's not all," Bakura smirked, amused by the effect his words and presence was having on both individuals. Oh this was fun all right. "He also told me that Kaiba hired him. And soon I reckon he'll tell me that Kaiba hired you too. Along with your name of course. Am I correct Marik?" The woman stared at him in disbelief. Marik remained motionless and Bakura couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. He was the one who had caused this transformation in the once haughty hitman. He was the creator of this broken and humiliated creature.

"So Marik, who is this woman?" He asked cheerfully.

"She's no one. I don't know her…" Marik said quietly, curling into himself even more. Bakura took a step closer to him.

"Sure you do. Don't lie now, especially when you're so bad at it," Bakura grinned. He walked closer to the huddled teen, feeling the woman's eyes carefully locked on both him and Marik. Should she try anything he was ready: he had with him the same handgun she'd tried to kill him with. If she so much as moved he'd shoot her in her other shoulder. Bakura crouched down in front of Marik and gently took ahold of his chin and forced him to lock eyes with his own.

His captive was afraid, he could read that easily. But within those wide orbs of brilliant lilac he could also read strength and a determination to succeed. Those eyes fascinated him. This man fascinated him. Bakura decided right here and now that he would not kill this complex person. He didn't know what else to do with him other than to kill him, but it would be a shame to lose such an interesting toy. He could care less about the woman, beautiful as she was; she was too easy to play with. He'd tire of her quickly and then she'd have no use or reason to exist. But Marik was fun. He didn't think he would get tired of Marik for a long time.

"What's her name Marik?" He asked quietly.

"Kujaku Mai and yeah, I'm sure she was hired by Kaiba too. Rich boy really wants you dead, you know. I hope he succeeds. I hope he fucking hires the biggest baddie out there to do it. And I hope that I can hear your fucking _screams_ when he does it," Marik spat, lavender eyes flashing, hard as amethysts.

"Well maybe you'll get your wish. I guess only time will tell, huh?" Bakura grinned, chuckling as he stood up. The woman, Mai, sputtered, looking from Marik to Bakura and back again, unbelieving of what had just happened. Bakura laughed at her flabbergast expression as he left the room.

She didn't understand of course. He had power over Marik and both of them knew that. He would have pulled the information out of Marik one way or another, but this way Marik had done it on his own terms. And that was another aspect of this assassin that so interested him. He was much smarter than Bakura had originally taken him for. And then there was the way in which he spoke, in which he acted. One moment he was afraid and then the next you wouldn't even tell. Simply amazing.

As Bakura walked away from the room he kept his captives in he ran into Ryou, who yelped and almost jumped a foot into the air. Had he been in a worse mood, such babyish behavior would have repulsed him, but as it was he only quirked an eyebrow and briefly wondered how the two of them could be so different. He was perfectly fine; what had gone so terribly wrong with Ryou?

"Ah Ryou. I must thank you for getting me another prisoner, although I'm sure that wasn't what you were going for when you let Marik go. If you ever do it again though, I'll have to kill you," He said, smiling as Ryou almost instantly paled at the thought. "So, you bringing more food and medicine for them, little brother?"

"No!" Ryou cried out as if horrified by such an idea. Right, because Ryou would never do something like that. Ha. "There's a customer here to see you. He seems like he's pretty mad about something. He keeps saying that you ripped him off and if he doesn't get to see you he'll start shooting the place up." Bakura sighed and ran a hand through his unruly mane of hair. Ryou quietly watched him, fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt.

"Damn it Ryou, you know I hate pissed off customers. They all just want to bitch and try to get my money," Bakura complained.

"I'm sorry?" Ryou said, sounding mildly confused.

"I suppose I'll have to deal with that now," Bakura sighed again. He began walking, then paused as a thought struck him. When Ryou had jumped he'd heard a noise like the jangle of metal striking metal.

"Are you still wearing that silly necklace thing?" He asked, turning back to face Ryou, who now looked very surprised. He gestured to his chest where Bakura could make out the faint outline of something hanging under his shirt.

"This? I always do. You gave it to me so of course I wear it," Ryou answered honestly, the ghost of a smile gracing his lips. Bakura scoffed and turned away, heading once more toward his waiting customer.

"What a corny answer. It's just a stupid little trinket. No reason for him to get so emotional about it," Bakura said to himself, grumbling about how much of a pansy his brother was, trying not to feel any kind of embarrassment from the fact that the only reason why Ryou was so emotional about it was because he had given it to him.

He'd done it when they both had been much younger, before he'd learned that the world had teeth and oh yes, it could bite. It was very easy for a young, optimistic and naive teenager not to notice that what he thought was opportunity and a chance for betterment was really just sharp edges and gaping pitfalls. He'd finally stumbled into some big cash while working as the middle man for a drug dealer. He saw the necklace while browsing through a few shops. It had almost seemed to call to him, and right away he'd known that it was just the kind of thing Ryou would love.

But that was all back then, and this was now, and now demanded that he pay attention to his waiting customer who, Bakura saw with dismay, was someone he knew. He'd had troubles with this man before too. Keith Howard, a.k.a. Bandit Keith. It was a stupid nickname, perfectly suited for a wannabe gangster who thought he could outsmart anyone and get away with anything. The big, bulking idiot hailed from America, and he loved to flaunt that little tidbit of information off in the most annoying of ways. Namely, by wearing an American flag as a bandana on top of his head. Bakura could already feel his good mood flying out the window.

Bakura took a seat across from Keith in one of the chairs he'd placed in the foyer, the room he used specifically for dealing with customer transactions. Keith jumped to his feet immediately, and Bakura grinned sinisterly. So, Keith apparently couldn't stand the idea of being lesser than anyone, whether that had to do with power, height, or attention. Someone had an inferiority complex.

"So Keith, seems like you've got a problem. Wanna tell me about it?" Bakura asked, still grinning.

"It's _Bandit_ Keith you fucking jap! _Bandit_ fucking Keith! And hell yeah I've got a 'problem' you bastard!" Keith roared, practically exploding. The display might have been impressive to some, but Bakura remained unfazed by it all.

"All right, all right, _Bandit_ Keith then. How about you take a seat? Your pacing is making me a little uneasy," He said, laughing lightly. Keith stopped his pacing but he did not sit back down in his chair. He pulled his sunglasses off his head and replaced them over his burning blue eyes. Bakura smiled away. Reel them in slowly: wait until they're comfortable enough to think they're in control, and then you snap.

"No, I don't want to take a fucking seat. What I want is for you to give me what I ordered! I paid for three crates of guns and you gave me two! What the fuck? Can't you people fucking count?" Keith yelled again, gesturing to the two brown crates of AK-47s he had brought with him. Bakura sighed and picked up the manila envelope Ryou must have left out for him that was lying on the little end table next to him.

It was a file of Keith's records of course, what they knew about him and a detailed report on all the transactions they'd made with him. Keith was half of the reason Bakura had developed the files of information on all of his customers. The man was here probably every other month, complaining about something being wrong. It was men like Keith who had forever silenced the optimistic young boy Bakura had used to be and given life to the callous creature he was now. Men like Keith who had ruined everything and shown him what a shitstop the world really was. Sometimes he wished that he could kill all of those men, but then he would invariably remember that it was also those greedy, base men and their need for instant gratification who gave him his money. And that maybe, just maybe, he was just as much of a greedy, self-serving prick as they all were.

"I've got it right here in paper that you ordered fifty of those AKs and that we gave you fifty of them. Each of those crates hold twenty-five, and if _you_ can count, then twenty-five plus twenty-five is fifty. So what's the problem here?" Bakura asked, eyes narrowing.

"Fuck no! That's bullshit! I ordered three fucking crates! Let me see that paper!" Keith demanded angrily. He viciously tore the paper from Bakura's grasp and somehow managed to look at it despite the heavy black sunglasses he insisted on wearing. Bakura sat patiently, amusing himself with the way Keith's hands clenched as he read through the paper. When he finished he slammed the paper down on the table.

"Bullshit! I ordered three god-damn crates!" Keith swore.

"No you didn't. You ordered fifty guns and you got fifty guns divided up into two crates. If you'd like, I can divide them up into three crates, but you still only get fifty guns," Bakura said, shrugging. Keith really exploded this time. He yelled and pulled Bakura up but his arm and yanked him out of the chair. Bakura was thrown against the wall and Keith tightened a meaty hand around the collar of his light blue shirt.

"I ordered three fucking crates and I want my three fucking crates, so stop shitting around and give me what I bought," Keith growled. His hot breath puffed against Bakura's cheek, smelling like old beer. Bakura's eyes narrowed and he slid his hand into his pocket. The gun was still there, but he ignored that and instead grabbed his switchblade. He unfolded it one-handedly and rapidly took it out and sliced open Keith's arm. Keith howled in pain and tore himself away from Bakura to press his hand against the bleeding wound. Within seconds Bakura had turned the tables and pressed the wannabe gangster up against the wall and was brandishing his knife against the man's throat.

"I don't usually _kill_ my customers Keith, but you are making me beyond angry. You come into _my_ house, and accuse me of trying to rip you off when there is absolutely _no proof_ that I have done anything against you," Bakura growled, pressing the knife harder against his throat. A bead of blood formed on the scraggly tan skin and traveled slowly downward.

"Get the hell off me you crazy fuck!" Keith roared. He struggled for a moment but Bakura pressed harder and his movements stilled. Bakura started at the steadily falling drop of blood, mesmerized by its descent but not really paying attention to it at all. An idea was beginning to form in his head, one that would solve both his problem with Keith and his problem with Kaiba.

"Hey! Let go of me!" Keith yelled.

"No, I don't think so," Bakura said, grinning eerily. "You know that I could kill you right now, don't you? Well as fun as I'm sure that would all be, I've decided against this course of action." Here Bakura raised his hands and let Keith go, who took a few unsteady steps backward, hand to his throat. "Instead I have a question for you. Do you know a certain Seto Kaiba?"

"Yeah. I do business with him sometimes. What about him?" Keith asked suspiciously.

"Of course you do. You people have no sense of loyalty, do you? But I'm getting off subject now," Bakura said, waving his hand casually. "You see, Kaiba has affronted me. And so of course I need to retaliate. So I've been looking for someone to do a certain job for me..."

"Oh no!" Keith exclaimed, catching on immediately. "Hell no am I doing something against Kaiba! He'll fucking kill me, man!" Bakura laughed and sauntered over to Keith's side. He noticed the tense air around the man and had no doubt that if he were able to see the man's eyes, they would have shown him some flashes of fear.

"My dear Bandit Keith, believe it or not, I'm actually a very generous man. I don't do these kinds of things because I want to, but because I have to. We're all just trying to make a living, aren't we? So if you help me out, I'll help you out. I'll give you anything you want, free of charge! That will save some money for gambling, huh? Hell, maybe I'll even _give_ you some money if you succeed," Bakura whispered suggestively.

"I'm listening…" Came Keith's reply.

"Are you familiar with a Mokuba Kaiba?"

* * *

Wheee! Oooh, what's Bakura planning?! I knows! Heehee, random little tidbit of information, but I totally decided to add Bandit Keith in here on a spur of the moment sort of thing. And then I started thinking about whether I should or not, and I figured out that if I did it would totally fit right in with some other things I have planned! I was so happy when I figured that out! I randomly texted my friend and freaked out on her and told her how happy I was, and she was just like "Okay?" Ahh, it was funny. Well anyways, please review, and I hope everyone has a nice holiday!

Oooh, one more thing! If anyone wants to see an idea of what the next chapter will be like, I've got a little blurby thing about it in my profile! Okayzies, byez now!


	4. Monsters

All right! Chapter four! This took a looong time to come out, and I am sorry for that, but never fear, chapeter five should be out pretty quickly! I've got one more day of school left and then I've graduated from high school forevah! Woot woot! Heheh, anyways, here's chapter four for ya!

**Disclaimer!:** I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! Nor do I own any of the monsters in Yu-Gi-Oh! I merely own the humble plot of this fanfiction. That's right, FANfiction. Not mine, so don't sue.

**EDIT 9-3-12: **Many edits! The regular cleaning/fixing of mistakes as well as a general fixing of the timeline, as when I looked back at it I realized it was all horribly messed up. Like the Jounouchi Trio were all gung-ho about rescuing Mokuba and then sat around and did nothing for about three days because Ryou was still in the dark room, and he needed to not be in there for plot things to continue to happen. So. More info has been added on in Bakura's section where he goes to feed Marik. This talks about the plan he has with Bandit Keith, and the entire section has been placed higher. The scene with Shizuka and Honda has been deleted from this chapter entirely.

* * *

There were times when Ryou could almost see the brother he'd once had in the cold, dead depths of Bakura's eyes.

He'd had a rough childhood, but he would never tell anyone that. Ryou's motto in life was that it could always be worse. And most of the time, when you actually stopped to look at your situation, really stopped to look, you always found that you hadn't hit rock bottom yet. Sure, he'd had a rough childhood, but it always could have been worse. He could have had Bakura's.

He and Bakura had been happy once. They'd had a family once. But then their mother and younger sister had died in a car crash and their father had grown sick and wasted away to a mere nothing soon after. Bakura had been sixteen and he had been ten. With their father being sickly the way that he was, Bakura had gotten a job to help support the three of them. When their father had passed away, the money they'd gotten from the little work he had been able to accomplish had passed along with him. Bakura had stopped going to school to be able to work full-time and earn enough money to pay the bills to keep them living in their parent's house.

It had been tough, but Ryou always saw the way his brother would make time for him, even if he was exhausted from work himself. He remembered how Bakura would smile and play with him or help him with his homework, or take him out to eat even if they couldn't always afford it. He remembered how nice and how caring Bakura was back then, and most of all he remembered how his eyes had been warm and alive. He remembered thinking how lucky he was to have such a wonderful older brother.

Then Bakura had gotten into the drugs, and things had changed.

At first it was great because by selling drugs Bakura was able to earn more money now than he ever had before. Ryou remembered coming home from school to a big hug and a "How was your day?" rather than a small, cold, empty house. Bakura was no longer always tired from working all day and they could eat real food again instead of cheap meals or sometimes nothing at all. And although Ryou knew that drugs were bad and selling them was too, he thought that it couldn't be all _that_ bad if they finally allowed Bakura to really smile again like he used to.

And then one day Bakura hadn't been waiting for him to come home like he usually was. Ryou checked the house for a note, thinking maybe he'd gone out to get groceries, but he didn't find one. He'd been worried and had stayed up until some time around two in the morning just sitting quietly in the living room, waiting for his brother to come back home. When he finally did, Bakura looked like he'd gotten into a bad fight. He was bleeding from numerous cuts and scrapes and his clothes were torn and dirty and covered in blood. Dark bruises were already beginning to form on his pale skin, including an especially bad one at his cheek. He'd been limping and wobbling unsteadily on his feet, as if he were about to collapse any minute. And worst of all, his eyes were dead. They were cold and dark and dead, and that had perhaps scared Ryou more than anything else. He didn't understand how a person's eyes could be so lifeless, yet they could still live.

He asked Bakura what was wrong. His brother had stood there for a moment, just blinking, as if he were completely out of it and unaware of what was going on, and then, like a light had flickered to life inside his head, those dead eyes landed on Ryou and his entire body shook and trembled as he screamed at Ryou to go to his room and leave. Ryou had bolted out of the living room and ran up into his own room where he'd hidden under his covers as tears streamed from his eyes. He'd heard strange, strangled noises coming from downstairs, and he wondered if Bakura was doing the same thing as he was now.

After that night Bakura had never been the same again. He never smiled, he never acted kindly, he was never warm and happy. His eyes were never alive. Instead he was cold and hard, callous and uncaring, and his eyes were dead. Ryou never asked what happened that night and Bakura never even mentioned it. The one time he had dared to hint at it Bakura's body had tensed completely and his eyes had frozen over and reached a whole new state of lifelessness that Ryou had never witnessed before. He hadn't yelled at him or even raised his voice, but Bakura's response had scared him just as much as if he had, and even more so. All he had said was for Ryou to never bring that day up again, and then he had went into his room and lied on his bed and had remained there for almost three entire days without moving. Ryou had watched over his brother for the entire time and it had scared him badly. Bakura didn't eat, didn't move, didn't talk, didn't even sleep. He'd just laid there on his bed, curled in a fetal position, dead eyes wide and staring at the wall across from his bed. If it hadn't been for the slight, yet constant rise and fall of his chest he'd have mistaken Bakura to be just as dead as those eyes.

After that Ryou had never again mentioned that day. He knew that it had been frightening enough to make strong, confident, Bakura fall into a comatose state and that it had been terrible. It had stolen his brother away from him and replaced him with a horrible creature that was more dead than alive.

Ryou knew that he was bad. He would never call his brother evil, not even with how he was now, but he was close to it. He knew that he should leave and get as far away from Bakura as he could because he was bad, but he couldn't bring himself to do that. Because he also knew that Bakura had sacrificed a lot for him, and that once in a while he could see the barest flicker of life in Bakura's eyes, and as long as that was there he had hope. As long as there were still moments like earlier between them, where they had almost connected, he would keep working to make his brother live again. To run away would be to give up and abandon Bakura without so much as a thanks for all that he had given to Ryou. And he couldn't do that. He would save Bakura. Which was why he couldn't let him do something like kill Mai.

After Bandit Keith had left, Bakura had run into Ryou again, wearing the same sinister look of sadistic pleasure on his face that usually meant trouble.

"Ahh Ryou. Good. I was about to go look for you," He'd said.

"Yes?" Ryou asked. He could still remember that he'd been a little worried, thinking that perhaps he had given Bakura the wrong file by mistake, even though he was sure he hadn't –he must have checked it as least five times, just to make sure.

"Don't give the prisoners any food today. I would rather you not waste any supplies on them in the first place, but I suspect no matter that I say or do you'll give it to them anyways. But there's no point in wasting even more than usual, so don't feed them today," Bakura instructed.

"What? I don't understand…" Ryou trailed off. He'd braced himself, half expecting Bakura to hit him, but instead his cluelessness was just waved off. Apparently his brother was still in a good mood.

"I know both of their names and I know who hired them to come after me. That means they are useless to me now. I don't need them anymore. Now the first one is interesting, but the woman is just boring. She's only taking up space. Right now I have some important business to deal with, but when I get back I'll dispose of her. So don't feed them," Bakura explained patiently. He left Ryou standing there gaping, trying to understand how one moment he'd been so close to Bakura he could have grabbed him and pulled him back to life, then in the next the demon had returned, carelessly talking about murdering an innocent woman.

Some might have given up, but Ryou was determined. He would save Bakura. As long as he was still able to see that slowly dying light of life in his cool, cold eyes, he would reach for it. That was why he couldn't allow Bakura to kill Mai. With every evil act, with every cruel intention, with every murder, he saw that light fade more and more. Now it was almost gone. So if he was going to save his brother, he had to be determined. He knew that Bakura would find out and he knew that he would be punished, but he was ready to make that sacrifice. Bakura had sacrificed so much for him already. He had to save him.

00000

Mai awoke the moment she heard the door open. It was pitch black in her small prison room, but her eyes were still wide open and her ears were alert for any noises. She'd only been here for three days, but already her ears were tuned to the noise of the door opening or closing. Her sense of time wasn't entirely accurate anymore, but she felt that it was night. Ryou hadn't come to give them any food yet, so she hoped whoever it was that had opened the door was him and not his demonish brother. Aside from their confrontation in the basement the night she'd been captured, earlier today had been her first and hopefully only encounter with Bakura, until she escaped from this place and killed him, that was.

The light to the cell never came on so Mai assumed that she had somehow misheard. Marik was still asleep anyways; she could hear the sound of his breathing, deep and even. Not that that really told her much of anything. Light sleepers made for good assassins, but Marik apparently slept like a log. Or at least he did now anyways. Mai found it difficult to believe that he had always slept so deeply and had not been killed on a job or assassinated himself.

A had abruptly covered her mouth and ceased her train of thoughts. A moment later she felt a hand on her shoulder and as a fresh wave of adrenaline set her body on fire she began to struggle.

"It's Ryou! Please stop Mai-san. I'm not here to hurt you!" She heard a whisper at her ear. Mai's struggles stopped but she was still curious. This was new behavior and she didn't like it.

"All right, thank you. I'm going to take my hand away from your mouth now, so please keep quiet!" Ryou urged. The hand on her mouth left and Mai spun around viciously. It was too dark in the room for her to see much more than the outline of Ryou, but that was enough. She liked to face the person she was talking to, even if she couldn't see them. She felt more powerful when she was talking to someone face-to-face.

"What's going on?" Mai asked sharply, with a bit more attitude then she had intended, but what could she say, being snuck up on like that had that effect on her.

"I'm going to help you get out of here, but we need to go fast. Bakura's not home now so you need to get away from here before he gets back. The cameras are still on, so we must keep the lights off and stay quiet. Now follow me," Ryou said, and she felt a hand grab hers and begin to lead her off the cot.

"What about Marik? We have to get him out too!" Mai hissed quietly. Ryou hesitated. For a while he was so quiet for such a long time that if it were not for the clammy hand grasping hers she would have thought that Ryou had left, or maybe this entire conversation had just been some fanciful dream of hers occurring only inside of her head.

"We have to leave him here. I can't bring him with us," Ryou said. She heard him move around, and then Ryou was grabbing both of her hands. Mai fathomed that if she could see in the dark she would have been looking directly into Ryou's eyes. "I'm sorry Mai-san, but you are the one in danger here. Bakura is planning on killing you now that he knows who you are and who you work for. He says that you aren't interesting anymore. He still thinks Marik is, so he's safe for now. Bakura won't kill him. I would like to take him with us, but I'm already endangering myself as it is. My brother won't be happy when he finds out I've done this. And even with the precautions I've taken against him finding this out, he'll still know it was me. So I can't help Marik escape just yet. When I can I will, I promise, but until then he's got to stay here. Please believe me, I know what I'm doing. I've lived with Bakura long enough to know what's a good idea and what's a bad one, and if I saved Marik right now as well it would only help him and no one else. I want to help all of us, so for now Marik has to stay here and you need to go, but I promise that I won't forget about him. I would never do something like that. I couldn't. So can you please come with me?"

For the first time since she'd been talking to Ryou she was able to hear the fear in his timid voice, underlying every word he said. It wasn't a surprise that he was afraid. Even she, the great Harpy, second-best hitman of her time, would be a little freaked out if that psycho was her brother. But yet even with such a terrifying brother to deal with, Ryou was still trying to help them, and for that she respected this mousy little boy. Her instincts were telling her that this boy was good. It felt like she could trust him to be true to his word and help both her and Marik. And for an assassin it usually was a good thing to listen to your instincts.

"All right then, I believe you. Come on, we better get out of here before your brother gets back," Mai said.

"Thank you," Ryou replied. He dropped one of her hands and continued to lead her forward, somehow being able to see through the inky blackness to be able to find the door. He fumbled with the numbers on the keypad as he unlocked the door, and as Mai saw the steel door open and the artificial light from a light bulb reached her eyes, she felt her gratitude for this boy grow. He was risking his life to help free her.

Ryou led her silently through the rest of the house, pointing to where cameras lay hidden so they could try to avoid them. He followed a similar path to the one Mai had taken when entering the house, so she didn't see many different areas that her first trip hadn't revealed to her. As they went through the house Mai noticed something she also had caught during her first visit but hadn't really put much thought into. Other than Ryou, she thought the house was empty. That was strange. If Bakura was a mob boss, then why didn't he have any guards? She knew how things worked in the world of mobsters, especially big ones, but Bakura didn't quite fit the bill in that aspect. Big, rich, powerful mobsters usually had several lackeys under their command that handled most transactions while they reaped in all the benefits. The mob bosses themselves usually only handled special cases or dealt with big spenders. Otherwise they were out of the picture and spent their time resting in their safe houses. Bakura followed that pattern correctly enough she was sure, otherwise he would have never risen to such a reputable standing. As for this next part… Powerful mobsters usually remained in their houses, overseeing their business from afar. While most weren't stupid enough to leave evidence of their illegal operations lying around for the cops to find, they still employed a bodyguard or two just in case something went wrong, or say there was a hit placed out on them. This was where Bakura went wrong. He had no bodyguards that she could see, so theoretically it should have been easy to kill him. He must have caught both her and Marik by dumb luck and by dumb luck alone.

"Hey Ryou, why doesn't your brother hire any guards?" Mai asked quietly. She was annoyed now that she had more or less been made a fool of, and she didn't take too well to looking like a fool. She had been hired by Kaiba to kill Bakura and the amount of money he'd paid her was reason enough to do it, but now she wanted to kill him for personal reasons as well, and she decided that should the chance to do that ever arise, she would take it without a moment's hesitation. So until that moment presented itself, she might as well learn more about Bakura, and what better way to do it than to ask the closest of sources?

"Well... Bakura doesn't really like other people. He's not comfortable around them and doesn't trust them. What's why, I guess…" Ryou said quietly, his voice trailing off. Mai pondered the information for about a second before deciding that it made sense. Mobsters were untrustworthy themselves, so it wasn't very surprising that they wouldn't trust other people. Still, it was a little perplexing that greed and cowardice wouldn't just override that notion.

"Why do you stay here Ryou? Why don't you leave? You've got to be old enough to get a job, so why don't you go out and earn some money and get as far away from him as you can if he's so horrible?" Mai asked next as the thought hit her. Bakura didn't have any guards. He just had Ryou. And while the absence of guards did make sense in a way, Ryou did not. Bakura was a sadistic, selfish asshole, and Ryou was a kind, sweet, and giving boy. Why would he stay here and be treated in such a way? Better yet, why would Bakura allow him to stay here if he obviously knew Ryou only hampered him in the long run?

"I have to stay here. Bakura needs me, and I need him. He's all I've got left, and he's done so much for me in the past. I need to help him now, and this is the only way I know how," Ryou said. He wasn't looking at her, so Mai couldn't see his face as he said this, but that was most likely a blessing in disguise because it would only have confused her more. Ryou had said these words with such care and suck love that she thought he was insane to say such things about Bakura, of all people. She had only really seen the man once before, but as a hitman she had a good ability for reading people, and Bakura didn't seem like the type to do anything for anyone unless it was himself, much less his own brother. Ryou's words and emotions confused her, and she remained quiet until Ryou led her to the door of the house and to her freedom. When he opened it she actually had to restrain herself from running out into the night.

"All right, that's all I can do for you. I don't have a way for you to get back to wherever you should be, but maybe you can call a cab?" Ryou asked.

That's fine, I know exactly how I'm going to get back," Mai smiled, spotting her hideous purple and silver RV sitting right where she'd left it. She hated the ugly thing, but after all the craziness of the past three days, seeing it again was like meeting an old friend you'd thought had gone away forever.

"I'll be leaving now before psycho comes back. Thanks for your help and be sure to save Marik too," Mai said, and then she was running, sprinting to the RV, glad to be leaving it all behind. Part of her told her to go back and get Marik and kidnap Ryou and take both of them away from this place. But no matter how good it all sounded in her head, she knew it wouldn't work out that way. Ryou apparently wanted to stay here, and if that was what he wanted then she probably owed him that much for saving her. And because Ryou wanted to stay here, if she took Marik with her that would cause trouble for Ryou and she couldn't do that either. Intuition told her that Bakura would be extremely angry to find out that she was gone, but if he found out that Marik was gone too, he would not only be angry, he would be murderous.

As Mai unlocked her RV with the spare key she'd hidden under the fender (Rules #5 and 6 respectively, always have a spare and know your getaway) and got into the hulking beast of a vehicle she spotted the silvery-white of Ryou's hair in the doorway. She turned the key and started the RV and drove off. She was free, she was gone, and anything else that happened now was out of her power. She had washed her hands of it all and it was nice to be alone and unburdened again. Plus she had a ton of money from Kaiba that she was not planning on giving back just waiting to be spent. So she had things to do and places to go, and no time to worry about what had happened or what would happen. She hoped for the best, but the matter was out of her hands, and now she was gone.

00000

Bakura slammed his phone shut and threw it across the room for good measure. The sound of it smashing hard into the wall only angered him more. No doubt it had made a hole in the wall and the phone would be destroyed for good. He simmered angrily and wished he had something he could kill. Unfortunately, the only two contestants around were the assassin and his foolish brother. He wanted the assassin alive, and he'd already taken care of his brother's digressions.

He hated people. He hated working with people. He hated working with people who were not _him_ and did not understand what his plans were. He hated his idiotic brother, who'd actually dared to once again go against his orders and let the female assassin escape. He hated the gangster wannabe Bandit Keith, who couldn't seem to grasp that something had gone wrong, and he was pushing their plans back until tomorrow. Getting the moron to understand the original plan had been difficult enough without adding the new developments. But Ryou had gone and fucked everything all up, and while he and Keith had scoped out the Kaiba household yesterday, they wouldn't be returning to it again until tomorrow.

But it was okay. It would be okay. It didn't matter if Ryou had let Mai escape, because Mai didn't know what he was planning. It was doubtful that the woman would return to Kaiba after failing her mission, but even if she did, all she would be able to tell the rival mob boss was that he had Marik and nothing new. Kaika still didn't know what he was planning. This was a small setback, but it would be all right.

A "bing!" from the microwave alerted Bakura to the fact that the soup was done. He stomped over to the microwave and grabbed the bowl, nearly dropped it with a curse when it burned him. Instead of glaring at it until it cooled enough for him to pick up, he glared at the screens portraying the live feed from the cameras in the room of his captive. Not that his captive was doing much besides sitting there, but it was a soothing activity that almost made Bakura forget his murderous intent. It didn't matter that Marik was not moving; knowing that _he_ was the reason behind that listlessness that put a smile on his face. Oh how he loved holding power over others. Of course, it was during moments like these that he was aware of just how similar he was to the greedy, coarse men he dealt with every day. But he was already too irritated today to put much thought into any of that.

A bit reluctantly he left his seat and computer screens to retrieve the soup bowl from the microwave. His footfalls echoed throughout the silent house, and that made him a little less angry as well. It seemed like he hardly ever got any time to himself, or even just a moment of silence anymore.

He picked up the bowl and grabbed a water bottle, then headed out of the kitchen. His footsteps echoed down the stairs leading to the basement of the big, empty house, then continued on and came to a stop in front of a familiar steel door. He grabbed the soup bowl with one hand and placed the top of the water bottle directly between his sharp canines. With his free hand he brought out a small golden key and unlocked the covering on the number pad, then entered the code. That done, he opened the door to allow himself in, then closed it behind him with his foot as he took the water bottle out of his mouth.

He tossed the water bottle to the assassin, who, to his surprise, caught it. The hitman was slumped against the wall between the cot and the sink. His legs and arms were lying limply on the cold, porcelain ground, and the boy himself looked more dead than alive. Bakura was almost surprised he still was. If he hadn't seen Marik eat once in a while, he would have thought him dead himself. He hadn't moved from this one spot for two days.

"Well you sure look like shit today," Bakura announced, a smirk firmly planted on his face, quite enjoying the somber mood of death and despair in the room. "No longer bothering to keep up your appearance, huh? Aww, and here I thought you were trying to look pretty for me."

The effect of his words were almost unnoticeable, but immediate. It was in the slight tensing of the muscles, the bringing of legs and arms in closer to the body, the almost palpable apprehension in the air. _He_ was the reason for all of this, and that thought pleased him more than anything. Oh yeah, he enjoyed this a lot. Better than any-fucking-thing else he could think of, this power was. Mmmm…

"Where's Ryou?" Marik asked. His voice was raspy and hoarse, like he hadn't used it in a while. Which was true. The only person he'd seen the hitman willingly talk to was Ryou, and well, Ryou was…

"Not here, obviously. Ryou is… busy." Just bringing up the subject of his brother brought a sour taste to Bakura's mouth, but he didn't dwell on it for long. His plans were still in effect and Ryou had only delayed them a bit with his interference. He did not need to worry about anything. In fact, at this point in time Ryou was likely already regretting his decision. That made Bakura grin instead.

"You know, he has schoolwork, things like that to take care of. He can't just spend his entire day catering to your needs. He wants to go to college you know. So he has to pay close attention to his studies." Bakura was almost laughing now, not because he was lying, but because he wasn't. His stupid little brother actually thought he could get out and go away to college one day. Oh, it was funny all right, and it would only be even more of a laugh when Ryou finally learned that the world didn't care about people like them, much like he had years ago.

"In other words, you did something to him," Marik said.

"Me? Harm my own brother? Why, I'm insulted," Bakura grinned, unable to keep back a chuckle from escaping his lips every now and then.

"You're sick," Marik whispered. He lifted his head off his chest, and Bakura's laughter froze in his throat as for just one brief second he felt that disturbing feeling of irrational fear seize him when those eerie lavender eyes locked in place with his won. "You got pissed off that he defeated you, that poor, little, spineless, weakling Ryou defied big bad Bakura. So you did something to him. Taught him a lesson, huh? Yeah, maybe he is concerned about his studies, but it's not studying that he's doing now, is it? You're sick."

He was pathetic-looking, he really was. He'd been skinny when he got here, but now he was twig-like and fragile looking. His bronze skin was pale and still covered in a motley of assorted cuts and lacerations, abrasions and bruises, some still varying shades of black, blue, and purple, others the yellow color healing bruises got. His hair, which might have been as stunning as spun gold at any other time, was dull and limp. His cheeks looked sunken in and his eyes were ringed with tired black. He was truly a sorry sight, but those eyes of his held so much power, a power even Bakura noticed and felt afraid of. He didn't like those eyes, and he didn't like it when he felt them on him, searching him, judging him, inspecting him.

"And you're one to talk," Bakura retorted, forcing himself to keep his smirk in place and stand firm, though he really felt like getting far away from here so he could escape those eyes. Marik said nothing to him, but his eyes said loads, those eyes told him everything he needed to know.

_Yeah, maybe you're right, maybe you hit the nail right on the damn head! Hahahaha, yeah, maybe I am sick! Ohhhh, and maybe I _like _it too! You understand, don't you? You're sick too. Sick sick _SICK_! But not as much as me, huh? Not as much as me. Yeah, we're sick here all right._

Bakura shuddered, despite his tight control on himself, because he understood all right. He understood much more than he ever wanted to.

"Heh, well whatever then. Point it, Ryou's not here to take care of you, so I have to. Now do you want your food or not?" Bakura questioned, holding the bowl of soup in the air. Marik didn't say anything, but then he didn't figure that he would. Bakura walked over to the assassin and knelt down beside him. He slid the bowl of soup over to Marik, and despite his wanting to leave the cell as quickly as he could, he remained in front of Marik, crouched at eye level with him.

He stared into those lavender eyes, watching the power they held and observing it carefully. One moment they were harsh lavender, then confused lilac looked out at him. They changed once more and cold dark mauve glared at him until they faded back to lavender. Bakura raised his hand, and even though he felt strangely apprehensive about doing this, he lightly brought his fingertips to the side of Marik's face and gently brushed them against his cheek. He watched intently as lavender changed again to nervous lilac. Satisfied, he pulled his hand away and stood up.

"Make sure you eat that. If you want to live to see one of Kaiba's goons succeed in destroying me, you'll need your strength, won't you?" Bakura remarked, turning away from the hitman. He walked to the door and unlocked the pad, then turned around and met lilac once more. "You don't have to worry about poison. If I wanted you dead it would have happened already." And then he left.

The moment he was out of the cell he felt any lingering remnants of fear leave him. He shook his head and leaned against the steel door for a moment, wondering what exactly he was doing, and then he had cleared his head and his thoughts were back to normal. Even powerless as he was, it seemed like the assassin was still as dangerous now as he had been before being incapacitated. He really needed to be more careful.

But now that he knew, he would be, and that was good. Everything was cool, everything was fine. Didn't matter that Ryou had let the second assassin escape, because Ryou had been taken care of. He was in a much better mood now than when he had first found out that information, and everything was fine. It also didn't matter if Marik was crazy because in the lilac he had seen fear. Marik was crazy and afraid, and as long as the fear was still there things were fine.

Keith was a moron, but it was fine, because things would still go according to plan. They would just be happening a day later. Nothing to worry about at all. Soon he would have Kaiba eating out of the palm of his hand. He was good all right, he was cool. Ice cool baby, and he was the one in charge.

00000

Jounouchi Katsuya knew how to sleep. He could sleep through just about anything, whether it was yelling, screaming, someone jumping on him or poking him, or whatever else a person could throw at him. He slept like a log and was happy for that fact too. _Some_ people said it was a bad thing, but hey, at the end of the day _they_ were the exhausted ones trying to keep themselves awake, and he felt just peachy. So yeah, Jounouchi Katsuya knew how to sleep.

There was only one possible thing that could wake him from even the deepest of sleep, and unfortunately, that was what woke Jou up today. See, he absolutely _hated_ his employer Seto Kaiba, and the feeling was mutual. Richboy was always calling him names and insulting his intelligence or making him do stupid jobs that took _forever_! And then if he accidentally messed up, Kaiba would threaten to kick him out on the streets or "forget" that he was still in the main building and lock him in there overnight. Yeah, Jounouchi did _not_ like his boss. And maybe that was why he always knew when he was in trouble or about to be yelled at. He just got this uncomfortable _feeling_ that something was up, and then Kaiba's ugly mug would pop in outta nowhere, and he'd know that he'd been right. Today it was the same feeling that woke him up. And soon after that, Kaiba burst into his room.

Kaiba's usually perfect brown chestnut hair was in disarray, his icy blue eyes were wide and frantic, his cold, emotionless expression shattered, and his always impeccable suit rumpled and mussed up. For a moment Jounouchi was so startled by this image he actually forgot that he was only clothed in his boxers. He had never seen Kaiba so worked up before, and he wondered what the cause of this upset was as well as what he could do to achieve the same reaction (Did he mention yet that he really didn't like Kaiba? And seeing him like this sure was _funny_!). And then Jounouchi remembered that, while he was still under the blanket of his bed, he was only wearing boxers, after all.

"'ey! What'er you doin' in 'ere Kaiba? 'Dis is my room!" Jounouchi yelled, pulling his blanket up to cover his exposed chest. Even in the state he was currently in, Kaiba seemed to regard him with a familiar look that clearly mean the richboy was thinking that he had, once again, done something ridiculous. Jounouchi growled, and just to prove that he didn't care if anyone saw his chest, he defiantly let the blanket drop. Not that it succeeded in wiping that stupid look of Kaiba's face, but at least now he _felt_ like he'd won.

"Were you on guard duty last night?" Kaiba demanded.

"Nope! I'm supposed ta have Tuesdays off," Jou responded gleefully, clearly happy that in this instance he had one-upped his boss in memory. He expected Kaiba to fire some kind of smart-ass reply back at him, and was already going through his mental storage file of witty comebacks (he was thinking a "Yeah shaddup Moneybags!" would work nicely). He was thoroughly surprised when instead of opening his big mouth, Kaiba turned around and threw his fist so hard into the wall it made a hole in the cheap plaster.

"Pegasus!" He roared. The silver-haired man in the fruity red quit appeared behind Kaiba immediately.

"Find out who was supposed to be working guard duty _now_. I want those people in my office in one hour," Kaiba growled.

"Of course," Pegasus responded, then slunk off as quickly as he appeared. Jounouchi was glad. Pegasus was Kaiba's right-hand man, and if that association wasn't bad enough, the man was sneaky. Jou wouldn't trust him as far as he could throw him. But Pegasus wasn't important right now. Right now he really wanted to know what had ticked Kaiba off so much. He'd never seen him so angry before!

"What's goin' on 'ere Kaiba?" Jounouchi asked suspiciously. Kaiba took a moment to close his eyes and compose himself.

"My second assassin has failed. I don't know what happened to the two of them and I don't care. I know that one of them must have said something about me having been the person who hired them, and I hope that whichever one of them opened their mouth is dead now," Kaiba said, voice barely containing his anger. Jounouchi was listening carefully now. "Sometime last night the mansion was broken into. A few petty valuables were taken, nothing very large or important. The work of what would seem to be an amateur thief, if not for the fact that no one with such a low level of skill would have been able to get in. Aside from those, the person also took the thing most important to me, proving once more it must have been someone with a brain." Kaiba paused here, and Jounouchi had enough time to wonder just exactly what richboy was talking about before Kaiba continued. "This morning the maids couldn't find Mokuba anywhere. I believe Bakura kidnapped him as revenge against me for the hitmen I hired to kill him."

"He took Mokua?" Jounouchi exclaimed loudly, almost leaping from his bed in sheer surprise (before he remembered about the boxers thing anyways). He couldn't believe it! Who actually had enough guts to not only break into the Kaiba mansion but to take Kaiba's little bro with them? It sure made sense now though. The only person Jou had ever seen Kaiba show any kind of sincere emotion toward was Mokuba. If you wanted to hurt Kaiba, then it looked like you had hurt Mokuba first.

Kaiba had ignored Jounouchi's outburst, and was now continuing on with what he'd been saying before the interruption, "It would make sense that Bakura would have taken him, but I have other enemies, so before I work on getting him back, I need to be sure that it is Bakura who took him. To do that, I want you and your team to infiltrate Bakura's base and report back to me if you find Mokuba," Kaiba explained.

"Yeah! We'll be sure to get Mokuba back for ya!" Jounouchi announced cheerfully.

"No!" Kaiba interrupted, cerulean eyes flashing. "My brother's life is at stake here! I do not want any mistakes! You are reconnaissance, you will find Mokuba and you will report back to me. You _will not_ attempt to get him out of there." He paused to compose himself again, and after a second his face once more resumed its ugly sneer, perfected to make the receiver feel like a worthless idiot not worth an once of his time. Thankfully Jounouchi was immune to that look. "If you find him there, I'll get a _real_ team to get him out. One that won't mess up."

"But we won't mess up!" Jounouchi whined.

"Just do what you're told, mutt, because if you _do_ mess up, then I will personally see to it that I eviscerate you slowly and painfully," Kaiba growled lowly, and then he got up and left, leaving no further room for discussion. Jounouchi blinked slowly. Another thing he hated about Kaiba: how he was always calling him a dog. Normally whenever some form of dog insult came from richboy's mouth he would fight back, but just now… Just now Kaiba had been downright scary. And serious as hell about not trying to rescue Mokuba. Jou almost felt like listening to what he said. Almost.

"Stupid Moneybags. Always thrownin' around big words like that," Jounouchi complained. He jumped out of bed and looked at the time. 7:14 a.m. Damn Kaiba always woke him up early! Well, he guessed he would have to get Honda and Shizuka up now. He took a step forward and remembered about the boxers. New plan. He'd work on that _after_ he got dressed. And figured out that the hell "eviscerate" meant.

00000

Ryou was in the dark room.

He had been bad and Bakura had caught him, and now he was in the dark room.

The name implied that it would be dark, but it wasn't just that. Saying the room was dark was like saying the ocean was wet. Both were grossly understated. The room was more than just dark, it was the darkest, deepest, fullest, blackest darkness he had ever encountered. This wasn't just turning off the light in your room or even covering all the blinds. This wasn't an entire city after a major blackout. This wasn't even the inky blackness of space or the deep sea. It was as dark as a black hole, sucking up every particle of visible light that entered its territory, demolishing any hopes or dreams, no matter how vain, to leave a deep and endless despair in its wake. Sometimes Ryou thought it was the soul-crushing black of Bakura's soul.

Time passed slowly in the dark room. It was impossible to judge the passage of time in here, and Ryou was left dazed, afraid, and uncertain. He hated being in this place, and he hated not knowing what was going on, and he hated feeling so afraid, so afraid, terrified, hated it, hated this place, hated the terror he felt, hated feeling like he was going crazy...

"What are you talking about? You _are_ crazy."

He was cold and he was hungry and he was afraid. He didn't want to be in here. He hoped Bakura would let him out soon.

"You know he won't. You've been bad Ryou. You have to pay the price."

Ryou huddled against the corner of the two walls. He shivered and hugged his legs as close as he could to his body while also trying to squeeze himself even further into the corner, as if he tried long enough he could somehow squeeze himself out of the very room. He was bad and he needed to be punished, and bad boys went into the dark room.

"_What did you do Ryou?"_

"_I-I-I-I... I-I didn't-I..."_

"_You let her go, didn't you Ryou?"_

"_No No no, of course not! No Bakura no! I didn't I didn't I swear! I-!"_

_SHUT UP! You're a dirty liar! You let her go! _You let her go! _Don't you _dare_ lie about it now!"_

"I-I'm so sorry Bakura! So sorry. Puh-please don't punish me. Please?" Ryou whispered, unaware that he was even talking. He buried his head into his legs, and then let out a shaky sob. And soon he was crying uncontrollably and his body was trembling and he couldn't stop himself from shaking back and forth as he cried and broke down.

"Stupid boy. What did you expect him to do when you disobeyed?"

Ryou shoved his hands over his ears to block out the voices as he rocked and cried. They were Bad. Worse than the dark. They talked to him and tried to make him believe their lies. He hated the dark and he hated feeling so small and helpless and afraid and hungry and most of all he hated the voices and he hated to hear them and to wonder if they were telling the truth or just lying and he hated seeing the bodies they came from because they were grotesque and horrid and they were Bad. Bad. The voices were Bad and he hated them.

"Bad? Us? Why Ryou, we're just trying to help you."

"No! No you're not! You're lying!" Ryou screamed, eyes tightly shut and hands over his ears even tighter. He didn't want to hear them or to see them. All they were did was lie and tell him things that weren't true, bad things about Bakura.

Ryou's crying stopped. He hiccupped once, then fell silent. His body grew cold. They were near him, he knew it. The voices. He could feel their hands on him, touching him. One stroked his head gently, trying to smooth the mess he had made of his hair. Another was on his back, rubbing in a circular motion. Ryou knew that one would be her. He opened his eyes slowly, not wanting to but powerless to stop himself from doing so. The pitch black he met with was aesthetically the same as the dark of his eyelids, but he knew it was different. He could feel it gnawing away at his sanity and leeching the color and life out of him agonizingly slow. Then he turned slowly and saw one glass eye staring blankly at him. Ryou's eyes traveled upwards, past the baby doll's dirty, cracked, porcelain face, past the familiar battle armor, up a blue-skinned neck, and came to rest on the somber face of a blue-skinned woman. Ryou couldn't see in the dark except for when it came to the voices, and he saw this woman perfectly.

He screamed. He screamed louder than he had ever screamed before and it was full of terror and fear. He backpedaled away from the woman furiously, or at least tried to. He had completely forgotten for the moment that he was pressed against a corner, so strong was his fear. He didn't think or rationalize, he just knew that he had to get away from her and quickly.

"What's wrong Ryou? You don't have to be afraid of us. We're your friends. We just want to help you," the woman said. She did not open her mouth, but Ryou could hear her voice in his head all the same. That was why he couldn't stop her voice by covering his ears. Somehow she was inside his head and he could do nothing to stop her emotionless, yet somehow taunting voice from getting to him and making him feel crazy.

"You're not my friends! And you don't want to help me! You're bad! And you're liars! Leave me alone!" Ryou screamed. He screamed and cried and yelled but they all stood there in the dark room with him. The lady with the baby doll was the worst one, but the others were terrible too. They had never spoken to him like the lady did, but he still felt their eyes crawling all over him, lying to him, taunting him. Bad. Even the headless armored knight, with his crimson-stained sword and cape—Ryou could feel his phantom eyes as well. They all stared at him and lied while the lady tried to make him believe them.

"But we _are _trying to help you Ryou. If we weren't here, you'd be all alone in this big dark room. You'd go crazy for sure," the lady said.

"_You_ make me crazy! Leave me alone!" Ryou yelled.

"You want us to leave you alone? But then you'd be here all by yourself, alone in the dark. Who knows how long you would have to wait before Bakura let you out? Assuming he cares enough to even do so."

"Shut up! Bakura would never leave me here!"

"You sound so sure of yourself." A chuckle, cold and cruel, edged with ice. "But you don't really believe that. You know that he's not your brother anymore. He's barely human anymore." Another chuckle, amused. Then a pause, to let the words sink in, to let Ryou think about them, let them twist around inside his head until he began to question himself and his steadfast loyalty to his brother. She knew just how to do it. Knew all of his weaknesses and insecurities. "It's in his eyes. They're the same as the men he deals with. Cold, empty, uncaring, cruel. Dead. There isn't any fire in them, any warmth or light. That's just you reflecting your own kindness and false hopes on him. It's not really Bakura. Your real brother died the day he didn't come home when he usually did. And when he did come home, bloody and torn and beaten, he was also dead. He's not the same anymore Ryou. Your brother's soul and humanity died and all that's left now is a zombie existing until his body catches up with the rest of him. You can't save what isn't there and you know it." A mocking laugh.

"NO! SHUT UP! YOU'RE _LYING_!" Ryou screamed. He closed his eyes again and shoved his hands so hard against the sides of his head that it hurt. He curled his knees up to his chest ever closer, even though they were already adhered to his body and couldn't possibly get any closer. Big tears rolled down his cheeks as he sobbed from sheer, primitive fear and because he knew that the woman was right. He could never admit it out loud or even dare to _think_ such a horrid thing normally, but he was stuck in the dark room now and things were different down here. Down here it was hard to hold on to the hope of a glimpse of humanity in Bakura's long-dead dull brown eyes and so easy to believe that his worst fear had come to pass and his brother was beyond his reach. Down here he could no longer keep up his optimistic front and long for something so seemingly impossible to occur. Down here Ryou was irreparable and broken and incorrect, the mirror image of Bakura in more ways than one.

"But we're not lying Ryou. You know that. You're a smart boy. You know he doesn't care. Just look at what he's done to those poor people," the lady insisted, frightening persuading.

"No…" Ryou said, shaking his head. His resolve was weakening. "Go away! I don't want to see you anymore! You aren't real! Go away!"

Silence. No more mocking words were fired at him. Ryou sat there crying in the silence. He still felt cold and he knew they were not gone. They never left that easily. Still, even with this knowledge, Ryou opened his eyes. It never got any better, but he opened them because he had to. Because they wouldn't leave him alone until they were done, and somehow Bakura only came to get him when they were gone.

His eyes hesitantly opened, vision blurry and watery at first, then his vision focused on a large jar that had taken the spot of the woman and her baby doll in front of him. The moment his fearful chestnut eyes locked on it a black amorphous figure popped out of it and flew at Ryou's face, scarring him so thoroughly his bladder released itself. A face morphed into the figure with two wide, deranged eyes and a large, toothy, and grotesque mouth. Two rows of blockish, monolithic, yellow-stained teeth stood in disarray in front of his, then opened sluggishly and a red tongue slid out, bringing with it the stench of rotting meat, and wetly caressed Ryou's tear-stained cheek.

Ryou sat frozen to the spot, unable to move for shock. One thought circled in his head—he had wet himself and he could feel the liquid seep into his jeans and Bakura would be mad about that and would insult him and call him a filthy disgusting baby and he would be mad and he had wet himself and Bakura would be mad—and aside from that he could not move. Even his tears had stopped falling from his widened eyes. Only his heart continued to frantically beat in his chest, the thundering sound roaring in his ears like a waterfall and beating so fast he thought he must be having a heart attack and that this time he really would die in this place.

And all the while the tongue continued to move over his cheek, leaving a slimy wet trail in its wake. When it retreated back into the fortress of teeth it began to laugh, and the raucous sound was amplified by the laugh of all the others as Ryou broke from his trance and wailed and his mind threatened to break.

"No, we're not real Ryou, and you know that. We exist only in your mind and yet you still can't get rid of us. We represent what you refuse to see and what you refuse to hear. What you refuse to acknowledge," the lady explained, monotone voice smiling.

"Then leave! Leave! Just leave… Please!" Ryou wailed, pathetically reduced to begging.

"You have to make us, and you can't. And even if you do, we'll always be here with you. We are in your head Ryou. We are your creations," the lady said. And Ryou gave up and let himself succumb to the voices and the darkness that engulfed him and covered him and whispered to him the truth he didn't want to hear.

* * *

And there you have it folks! So okay, a couple of quick things before I let you go and review. First off, the chapter is a little skippy, and I apologize for that. I added quite a bit more characters in this chapter, and I have to focus on what they're doing too, so things are bound to get kind of messy. If it's a problem, I can try to make things a little less skippy, but I think it's going to be like this for a while anyways.

Second, this is the first time I've ever really tried writing anyone other than Bakura, Ryou, Marik, Malik, Isis, and Rishid. So please tell me if I'm doing a good job and if the characterization is good, or if I need to fix things. Thanks!

Well that's about all then! Chapter five should be out pretty soon now that I should have more time on my hands to write. Oh, one more quick little thing though! I am without internet at the moment. I'll still get to a computer when I have chapter five done, but it might take me a while to respond to reviews, so just hold on for a while! Also, seeing as I am without internet, I am using a school computer right now (bad me!). That means that because I'm using a different word program, all the little notes I had highlighted become un-highlighted when I transfered the document over to this computer. I think I fixed everything, but if they're some random note somewhere that kind of doesn't make sense at all, that means I missed something. Just tell me about it and I'll be sure to fix it when I get a chance to. Kay, that's it, please review, and thank you!

Oh, and did everyone catch that the "monsters" Ryou is seeing are the same monsters from Bakura's deck in the anime? Wahaha, I just thought adding that would be so cool!


	5. Frankenstein

All right! Chapter five! It is one in the morning, and I really just want to get this posted, so I'm going to try to keep babbling to a minimum. Just know that there may be some stupid mistakes in this, as i got a new computer and the word program I'm suing keeps changing stuff around on me. For example, Bakura becomes baker. Yes, it is quite annoying. I think I got most of the, if not all, but if there is a mistake, just tell me and I'll fix it.

Oh, and one more quick thing: THIS CHAPTER IS QUITE GORY! If you don't like that kind of stuff, just be warned.

**Disclaimer:** Black-Neko-Chan does not own Yu-Gi-Oh and makes no money off the writing of this. She does it for fun. She also does not own anything at all pertaining to the idea of Frankenstein, just in case you were wondering.

**EDIT 9-3-12: **Again, some housekeeping has been done. In order to make the timeline make sense, Ryou's stay in the dark room has been reduced to two days instead of two. The scene that introduces Shizuka and honda has been added to this chapter, and the scene where the Jounouchi Trio reach Bakura's house has been extended. The scene with Yami and Yuugi has been placed at the end of the chapter and has been modified somewhat. Yuugi is now talking to Yami about Ryou a day after Ryou first shows up at school again.

* * *

He wished he were gone. He didn't want to be here, he wanted to be far away. He hated this place and he hated being trapped here in the dark because it reminded him of a bigger, fuller dark and that brought back memories he didn't want to think of. Memories of pain, of desperation, of self-hatred, and loathing for him, memories of times when he felt so cold, so small and alone, times he felt like he wanted to die. He hated being afraid.

He hated feeling the way it started out as a small nagging at the back of his head, a small worry, a small tingling that hinted that something could be wrong, that something was off. Then it grew and grew, steadily, stealthily, hiding in secret until it was too large, and then it crashed down on him and chocked him and drowned him and squeezed him until he succumbed to it, until his life was ruled by it. He hated that feeling, and he hated the way he was feeling like that now, feeling terrified and powerless and afraid to move, just like he'd bee when he was younger, just like he'd always be.

Then let me out. I can help you. I can make you powerful. You won't have to be afraid.

He wanted to be powerful and he wanted to be in charge and he wanted to get out of this place. He wanted to do all of these things but he couldn't because he was weak and afraid, just a scared, whiny little brat, with so much potential but no ability to unlock it, to use it, he was a failure, a screw up, he was helpless and messed up and weak and afraid, so afraid…

Then let me out! I can help! I'll make it all go away!

"How?" He croaked. "How can you make it all go away?"

Because I'm more powerful than you. You're right, you're weak and spineless, but I have more power then you could ever imagine. He has no power over me. He never has. You remember, don't you? I took care of things before. I can do it again. You just need to let me out.

"'Let you out?'" he repeated.

Yes. Let me out. I'm confined in here. You need to let me out. You've done it before. You remember.

And he did. The memories were hazy, disconnected, but they were there. A time when he hadn't been afraid. He'd been powerful then and sure of himself, not like he was now. He'd enjoyed that power, and now he wanted to feel it again. It was much better than the fear, constantly being afraid of everything. He wanted to be powerful. He wanted to be the one in charge.

"You'll make it all better?" He asked.

I have before.

"All right then."

00000

Mai was being stupid. Apparently her stay at the albino household had resulted in some kind of grievous injury to her head. She couldn't remember such an injury ever having occurred, but that was just more proof that it had. After all, why else would she be willingly driving back to the Kaiba mansion to re-involve herself in all the trouble she had just gotten away from?

That's right, she was going back. Not for Kaiba (she had gotten his money and could really care less about what he was going to do now. Especially because she was not planning on giving said money back), but, strange as it was, for Rishid.

She and Marik were rival assassins, each one constantly trying to be better than the other. Because they were the best the two had clashed often, and yeah, Mai was a little miffed that even though Marik was the younger of the two, more often than not he came out on top in their little skirmishes, but that didn't mean she wanted the boy dead. She was a mean person and a loner, but that didn't make her evil. So although she really wanted to just forget this whole thing and immerse herself in the freedom of being alone with her money, Mai was driving her ugly RV back to the Kaiba residence to find Rishid While Marik annoyed her most times, she had no qualms about Rishid, and she knew the overprotective man would be worrying. Even more so once he learned his fears had grounds to stand upon.

She parked her rather flamboyant RV into the empty space of a hotel parking lot not too far from the Kaiba mansion. She knew Rishid's habits quite well and was almost positive this was where he would be staying. He'd want to be close to Kaiba while Marik was on a job but not actually on the grounds of is employer. He'd have picked a nice, fancy hotel for the security factor and to try and intimidate any potential enemies, and he would have registered under a false name. Luckily, Mai knew what that would be. Also luckily, the person at the hotel desk was a male. So after adjusting her shirt she was off.

"Umm, excuse me sir, but can you please tell me if there is a Namu staying here at this hotel? I really need to get up to see him you see," Mai explained, all wide-eyed and sweet smiles as she approached the desk. Almost instantly she caught the man staring at her ample bosom, and she "innocently" crossed her arms to expose even more of herself.

"Ahh, of course I can do that for you ma'am!" The now very flustered young man said. He cleared his throat and adverted his eyes so he was now looking at the computer screen. "I'll just need a minute to look through the computer logs… And here we are. There is a Namu in Room 334. However, I'm afraid it's against our policy to just let someone up into the room. I could call him and ask if he'd like company, but I really can't just let you go up there by yourself. I'm terribly sorry." And sorry he did look. Which was also good.

"Really? Can't you just pleeeaaasseee let me in? I really need to see him! And it's a surprise, so he can't know about it! Please?" Mai pouted, her bottom lip protruding ever so slightly. She put her elbows on the desk and pushed herself onto it just a little. As the man fought to stop himself from letting his gaze trail downwards one more, Mai knew she was winning.

"I-I'm sorry, but I really-I'm not allowed to!" He insisted.

"Please? Just for me? It's really important, and I promise I'll be quick. It can be our little secret! Just let me see the extra key and I can be in and out just like that!" Mai said. The man's gaze shifted to his left, then to his right. He hesitated once more and Mai pouted again. His resolve crumbled and without a second moment longer he had grabbed the key to Room 334 and handed it over.

"Thank you so much! Ohh, I promise I'll be quick! And I'll make it up to you too! Maybe we can go over to my house for a little fun when you get off," Mai whispered seductively. She bent in and gave him a quick peck of a kiss on his cheek, then jumped away and strolled toward the elevator, leaving him red-faced and in shock.

She twirled the key absentmindedly in the elevator as she marveled over how easy it was to seduce a man. Show them some cleavage, hint at a bit of fun to come afterwards, and bam, they were yours. Men were largely a bunch of simple-minded pigs, easy to control. There were a rare few that weren't, and although it would make things harder for her, Mai wished there were more of those ones. She had always enjoyed a challenge, after all.

_Ding!_ The elevator came to a stop and Mai strolled off. She made her way down the hallway, looking for Room 334, and when she located it she unlocked the door with ease. Cha-ching!

"Marik?" Rishid's telltale bald head came into the living room the moment he heard the door open.

"Sorry Rishid baby, but it's only me. No Marik, but I do have some important info about him," Mai said, flipping the keys in her hand. She took a seat on a plush beige love seat and gestured for Rishid to take the chair in front of her as she crossed her legs.

"Mai? What are you doing here? You know information about Marik? Where is he? What's going on?" Rishid asked, sounding perplexed.

"One at a time! One at a time!" Mai laughed. She gestured again to the chair rather impatiently. "Sit down, sit down! I can't stand people hovering over me." Rishid sat down without another word and looked at her eagerly. Mai almost grimaced. She had his full attention now and she was going to have to tell him just exactly where his little brother was. Totally her idea of fun.

"Where's Marik?" Rishid questioned. Mai sighed.

"He was captured. The man we were both after, Bakura, he's good. He captured me too. I had my gun pulled on him and I was ready, but he got it out of my hands and shot me in the shoulder. I'm going to have a scar there, I just know it," Mai said, stopping her rant when she saw Rishid give her a look. "Anyways," She continued, clearing her voice. "He caught me and he threw me in a cell with Marik. Bakura's brother Ryou gave us food and medicine for our wounds and took care of us. He's the one that helped me escape."

"You escaped? What about Marik? Didn't he leave too?" Rishid asked impatiently. Mai almost smiled. She still didn't want to be the one to break the news to him, but it was almost cute watching the overprotective way in which big, intimidating Rishid cared for Marik.

"Marik… is still there. I'm sorry, but Ryou could only rescue one person without risking potential harm to himself, and Bakura was planning on killing me. I… I-I gave in and told him everything and he said he didn't need me anymore," Mai lied, taking the heat from Marik for revealing her identity. Why she was doing this she didn't know, but it just felt like the right thing to do. Never mind the fact that Kujaku Mai never stood up for anyone other than herself.

"So Marik is still there then?" Rishid asked. His usual stony-faced expression was crumbling and revealing the worry and concern he'd been feeling since his young charge had left his side to go on this mission.

"Yes. Bakura thought he was interesting and wanted to keep him alive, so Ryou rescued me," Mai explained shortly.

Rishid stood up. "Well then I have to go get him," He resolved, and his tone was so determined that Mai jumped out of her seat as well. She knew that Rishid was also an assassin and that he came from the Ishtar family so he should be a good one, but she had not once actually witnessed his skill on a job. Suddenly Mai, loner Mai, cool and uncaring Mai, was genuinely worried for this man, the brother and watcher of her rival. Bakura had captured both her and Marik. Could Rishid really fare any better?

"Don't go Rishid. Don't. Ryou said he was going to help Marik when he could and I trust him. He wasn't lying to me, I know it. Marik will get back to you. So just stay here and wait for him. Don't go after him Rishid. Bakura will catch you, and once he finds out he can use you to hurt Marik, he won't hesitate to do so. I don't… I don't know what he's done to Marik thus far, but it must have been something horrible. Marik wasn't like anything I'd ever seen before. He just… lied there, almost as if he were dead. He didn't move, didn't say anything, and it scared me Rishid, it scared me, and if you go there too, Bakura will capture you and use you to break Marik, I just know it," Mai finished. She was horrified. She hadn't meant to tell Rishid about how Marik had been acting in that cell, but the words had just kept pouring from her mouth and now it was too couldn't take them back and she knew now that there was no way she could prevent Rishid from going after Marik. And all the while the nagging feeling she felt at the back of her mind that may have been her intuition was growing, telling her this was a bad idea.

"Well then I must go. If what you said is true, then Marik needs me, and I must go to him. I have to. You may not understand, but I care deeply for Marik. He is not only a brother to me, but also a companion. A son even. I have devoted myself to serving him and protecting him. If I were to fail in my duty then I should not deserve this life I have been given and would hope to die as punishment for my failure. I must go now Mai, and I will not be stopped. Thank you for providing me with this information," Rishid said.

Mai stood flabbergast in the middle of the room as Rishid gathered together some necessities for the obstacle in front of him. She was shocked and confused and a little hurt. He was right. She _couldn't_ understand how it would feel to care so deeply for another person, enough to risk your own life for that person. She _couldn't_ understand how anyone could do something like that. Why risk your life for others? What did you ever get in return?

"Does Marik even know how much you do for him?" Mai asked quietly. Rishid stopped at the door and looked at her. Their eyes connected and Mai fleetingly wondered where he had ever gotten such stunning green eyes, and then Rishid had broken their gaze and was headed out the door. Mai heard him shut it behead him and then the sounds of his footsteps slowly faded off. She sunk disjointedly into the love seat and stared. She had never felt so alone in her life.

00000

"Ryou? Ryou? Ryou, are you all right?"

The boy in question jumped, startled from his thoughts, and attempted to smile. If Yuugi hadn't already known that something was wrong with his friend, that smile would have given it away. He and Ryou were both often told by their classmates that they were possibly the sweetest, cutest, most adorable students in the entire school, and that their smiles alone had the power to lift anyone out of the depression surrounding them, no matter what their problems were. Now while that may have been a _bit_ of an exaggeration, Yuugi always felt a little bit happier whenever he saw Ryou smile. This smile here was not one of Ryou's smiles. Ryou's smiles were big and wide and inviting and friendly, and this one was just a flimsy, almost pathetic attempt at all that.

If that weren't reason enough to suspect that something was wrong, there were other not so discreet signs as well. Ryou was looking paler than usual, and all of him seemed to hang. His hair and arms hung limply at his sides, his clothes hung on him awkwardly, the large, black bags under his dull eyes hung there, even his skin seemed to hang off the rest of him. He was constantly drifting off into his own thoughts and not paying attention to the world around him. Ryou had told him that he was sick, but Yuugi wasn't sure about that. Something was wrong with Ryou and he was afraid for his friend's health and well-being.

"I'm sorry Yuugi. I was just thinking about something," Ryou apologized, still smiling his innocent and awkward smile. Even his voice sounded tired and afraid. It was like he was going through this entire day expecting someone to grab him.

"No, I'm sorry to be a bother. It's just that… Ryou, are you okay?" Yuugi inquired softly.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just a little tired today. I think I'm still feeling the effects of the flu bug I caught," Ryou explained. Yuugi nodded but he wasn't sure if he believed that. Ryou had been absent from school for two days. Today was the first day he was back. He said that he still felt sick, but if that were true then Yuugi wondered just exactly what kind of flu bug his friend had caught, because this didn't look like any sickness he had ever witnessed. And if it was some new strain of virus, then shouldn't Ryou have gone to the hospital and gotten antibiotics by now? Yuugi wanted to believe that his friend wouldn't lie to him, but he couldn't help thinking that he was.

"Well if you're sure…" Yuugi said, trailing off. Ryou grinned at him cheerfully, and to him that look almost screamed of suffering and pain.

"I'm sure Yuugi. I'm fine, just fine. Thank you for your concern though," he said. Yuugi sighed and for a moment his large magenta eyes focused on the stream of students trickling into the class. The bell would be ringing soon… He sighed again and grabbed a strand of his multi-colored hair and twisted it around his finger. He just wanted to help…

"How have things been with your brother?" He asked as another thought struck him. He didn't know much about Ryou's mysterious older brother other than he wasn't a very nice person and liked to make trouble for Ryou. Ryou loved his brother but whenever the subject of the older sibling was brought up he became evasive and acted strangely. Maybe this behavior had something to do with the infamous brother person.

"Bakura's fine. Fortunately he didn't get sick, so we didn't have to worry about him missing any work," Ryou answered politely, also tactfully evading the real question behind Yuugi's own polite inquiry.

"I mean, have the two of you been fighting at all?" Yuugi rephrased.

"Oh no! We've been getting along quite well recently, really we have," Ryou answered, smiling his false smile. Even Yuugi knew that it was a lie. From the little he knew about Ryou's older brother Bakura, the man was constantly mean to Ryou. Apparently the two of them had gotten along once, but after the death of their parents the relationship between the two brothers had degraded quickly, and now Bakura couldn't even stand to be in the presence of the other. It would take a small miracle to make that change, so unless Ryou meant that by "getting along quite well" the two of them were really just ignoring one another, Yuugi doubted whether what his friend had just said could be taken as the truth.

Before he could call him out on that lie however, the bell rung and their teacher began gathering her lesson plan for the day. Yuugi turned around and flipped to a fresh page in his notebook. As the teacher talked he knew he should be focusing on his studies, but his attention kept finding its way back to Ryou He wanted to know what was wrong with his friend and he wanted to help him, but he didn't know how he could so that when Ryou just wouldn't tell him the truth. He cast a sideways glance at Ryou and was again reminded of just how horribly the other looked today. For the sake of his friend, he hoped the relationship between Ryou and Bakura improved, and he hoped all of Ryou's problems were solved. And soon.

00000

Since Ryou's imprisonment in the room, feeding Marik had become a part of Bakura's daily chores. There were certain obligations Bakura had to partake in each day before he was ready to start doing business. Look over his files and papers, inspect his wares, sometimes even leave his house to check on some of his underlings and make sure they were still as afraid of him now as they had been when he'd first gotten them to work for him. Fear was the medicine he used to keep them in line, and he administered it effectively. And if they weren't afraid enough and instead had begun to get comfortable in their position, why, he just killed them. He didn't need anyone even thinking about turning on him.

Most of these chores were a pain. He hated waking up every morning and knowing exactly what he had to do, whom he had to threaten, the fact that he had to leave. Killing his underlings was always fun, even if it did mean that he had to find a replacement, but these days everyone was always sufficiently afraid of him. No one ever seemed to defy him now, and although that should have made Bakura happy, it just left him feeling a little disappointed. He didn't trust any of them, but if they were not showing even the slightest bit of ill intent to even one so paranoid as him, then he had absolutely no reason to kill them all. So all of his daily chores were just another part of the day he despised, but strangely enough, he didn't mind feeding Marik. Even now that he'd let Ryou out he still continued to feed his would-be assassin. The task had even become something that could almost be described as enjoyable. As the day went on, he found himself actually looking forward to the time he would spend with the hitman, away from the other brainless idiots that usually occupied his time. He ended up bringing food to Marik more often then necessary, just because he wanted to see the other.

Right now he was on is way to feed Marik for the first time today and he was looking forward to it immensely. So far the day had been problem after problem. First he'd had to deal with a couple of troublesome customers and had been forced to kill one of them to get the others to behave like proper human beings and obey him. That had been fun, but scrubbing the blood off the floor of the foyer had not. After that he'd gone to feed the Kaiba brat and the little kid had actually bitten him. That had sent him into quite the rage, and unfortunately he hadn't been able to calm it by killing the brat. If he'd done that he wouldn't have a hostage to keep the elder Kaiba in place. Needless to say, he was still in a foul mood and he thought he deserved a relaxing break with his favorite pet.

With food in one hand and bottle of water once again held between his teeth, Bakura unlocked the glass covering over the number pad and input the code to open up the door. He kicked it open and walked inside.

_Smash!_

The plate that had been supported by a slender hand was on the ground, shattered to pieces, the bottle of water on the ground next to it. Bakura's eyes had automatically focused on the spot between the cot and the sink where the hitman always was when he entered the room, so he noticed right away when the spot was empty and was instantly on alert. His narrowed eyes searched the vicinity as his fingers reached toward his knife. The room was empty. Not possible. He couldn't have escaped from here, not-

_Slam!_

Pain in the form of a blinding while light exploded in his head and traveled downwards from there. His entire body started to ache as he was slammed violently against what could only be a wall. Bakura opened his eyes and the world swam into focus, making him feel dizzy and like he was about to be sick. He tried to move but couldn't, and he found that instead of falling down to the ground like he would have expected, he was stuck against the wall. Transparent yellow lines were weaving back and forth over his body, flickering on and off, holding him firmly in place.

"What the fuck?" Bakura roared. He spat red blood out of his mouth. He had chomped down on the inside of his cheek when he was thrown against the wall and now blood was filling the inside of his mouth.

"Such language." A voice, a cackle. Bakura spun toward the sound and saw Marik standing behind the steel door, head bowed. Only something was different about him now. He raised his head and offered Bakura a full look at the deranged grin he wore. It was Marik, but he was different than before. His hair, dirty and limp before, was shiny gold and spiked now. His face wore a horribly crazed grin that rivaled Bakura's own on his best days

(_ha ha ha, yeah, maybe I'm sick!_)

and veins popped out everywhere beneath his skin. His eyes sparkled with a cool glint of madness, and those eyes were no longer lilac or even lavender, but a dark chilling mauve color. Electricity danced in those eyes and in the air around them and sparked from the points of his hair.

(_yeah, we're sick here all right_)

Gone were the old, torn, blood-crusted clothes and along with them all the injuries. No more cuts and bruises, now Marik looked perfectly healthy and physically fit. His old clothes had been replaced with khaki pants and a form-fitting black tank, and a cape hung from his shoulders. The old Marik had always looked pathetic and broken, but this new Marik was powerful and assured and brought with him a darkness that sparked that loathsome feeling of fear in Bakura's long-dead heart.

(_sick sick sick sick !SICK!SICK!SICK!SICK!_SICK!)

"Let me go Marik, and I won't hurt you too badly," Bakura growled, forcing himself to stay strong, even though the darkness and the fear threatened to drown him He would not let it, he was in charge, he would remain in charge, and he would keep the power.

"Not Marik. I'm Malik," He responded, grinning even wider. That gave Bakura pause for a moment.

"Malik? That's the name you go by on missions, isn't it? But you're still Marik," Bakura said, frowning, forgetting about his anger for a moment.

"It is. That's because it's _me_ who does the killing," He grinned. The man who called himself Malik walked forward and brought his darkness and electricity with him. Bakura shivered, and as Malik grew closer he began to hope that, more than anything else, this person did not touch him. He didn't want to feel those fingers on him and his darkness trying to get at him.

"You see, Marik is a baby. He's weak, useless. He was never strong enough to become the Tomb Keeper his father wanted. So he created me. He was weak, but I was strong. I could do all of the things he couldn't. I could prove ourselves to our father. I could kill like he wanted. I wasn't afraid. I gave life to all of Marik's forbidden fantasies and I could do all the things he could not. When it was time for us to go on a mission Marik let me out because I could do what he could not. Malik is me. _I_ am the one who kills! Not him! Not Marik! Malik! Malik! _Malik!_" The man exploded, laughing derisively. As he laughed the electricity in the air thickened and Bakura felt himself suffocating. Overhead the lights grew brighter and brighter. They began to whine noisily, and one of them exploded. Sparks and shards of glass rained down on the two men.

"Marik is weak. _Weak!_ He's not important. I am! Me! Malik!" Another light blew and Bakura wasn't sure whether his vision was darkening because of the breaking lights of the lack of oxygen reaching his brain. He was drowning, he was suffocating, the air was too thick and all the while his fear was rising and threatening to pull him under.

And then it was all over. The air was back to normal. The lights were fine. He could breath. And Malik was smiling at him, looking deranged and crazy and completely fucking insane.

"So you see, I am not Marik. I am Malik. When things become too much for him he goes and hides and I come out. And I am not planning on going back," Malik grinned. He came even closer to Bakura now, close enough so their bodies were only inches part. He raised one tan hand and brought it to Bakura's face, only mere precious centimeters of air preventing the touching of skin. Now Bakura began to struggle against the yellow lines pressing him to the wall because he _really_ did not want that hand to touch him. Fear assaulted him on all sides, irrational and powerful, and it only increased with each struggle he made. All in vain. He couldn't move. He couldn't stop the touch of the darkness.

"Hee hee hee, I'm sure Marik would love to see you like this. So afraaaaaid," Malik cooed.

"I'm… not afraid!" Bakura shouted as he struggled, instantly bristling at the blow to his pride, even if it was true.

"So you say. But I can smell it," Malik whispered, grinning. And then he leaned in closer and Bakura's struggles stilled. The sound of his heartbeat was defining in his ears, but even over the roar of it he could still hear Malik smelling him.

"Yessss, Marik would enjoy this quite a bit," Malik hissed as he withdrew and walked away, making both Bakura's fear and the thundering of his heart subside significantly. Suddenly the crazed man stopped walking and swung around. "Do you know what you took from him? Oh, he's always been a coward, but at least he had built up some semblance of bravery. Foolish boy, pretending to be me. Ha _ha!_" The lights above them flashed dangerously for a second, then quickly faded back to their normal intensity, as if they were ashamed of their little outburst.

"Ohh, he pretended to forget, and I helped him, but deep down he always knew, we always knew, and that made him a coward. I accepted it and became stronger than it, but he ran and hid, hid behind me! …But at least he was able to pretend." Malik was rambling now, pacing back and forth with his spiky head bowed and his cape flowing out behind him. Bakura's gaze was transfixed on him. He could not understand the words the crazed one spoke, but he couldn't stop himself from devoting his entire attention to these words and trying to understand them.

"Yes, he pretended like he was powerful, and then you touched him and stole that from him." Now Malik stopped his pacing and looked Bakura dead in the eyes with his cool mauve orbs. "Not that I cared, but you broke Marik when you did that. Of course I suppose I should thank you for that. If you hadn't broken him _I_ would never have been able to come out. For how much of a weakling he is, he keeps a tight hold on me. Only lets me out on hits. And even then I'm always on a leash. This is only the second time I've had complete control," Malik muttered.

"What are you talking about?" Bakura asked, completely confused. "I don't care about any of this! If you're out, then good, have fun! Leave! Just let me go, and then you can have a blast."

"I'd love to, believe me! And I will," Malik promised, laughing darkly. The noise sent shivers down Bakura's back. "Unfortunately, I can't let you go. You helped me to escape, but I'm afraid that won't change your fate. I'm going to kill you either way." He laughed, and gooseflesh broke out on Bakura's arms.

"Too bad really. You're not bad looking. And you have potential. After all, you're sick too, aren't you?" Malik questioned, smiling creepily. He approached Bakura slowly, in the manner of a predator approaching its wounded prey. But Bakura hardly noticed this at all, for his attention was held solely by the object Malik was pulling out from behind his back. It was a long, golden rod with a winged eye on the top of it. From deep within him Bakura could feel some sort of force pulling him to the rod, telling him it was important, very important. It was the same feeling he had gotten when he first saw the trinket he had bought Ryou long ago. Only the fear was telling him that this rod was bad, and he should try to stay as far away from it as possible. The darkness laughed and agreed mockingly, fully aware that he could do no such thing.

"Well this looks like the end. Too bad really," Malik repeated. He was now only a matter of inches away again, and the golden rod was even closer. "You know, Marik may not have enjoyed it when you touched him, but I didn't mind it at all. If the circumstances had been different perhaps…" Here Malik trailed off and gave a short, brackish laugh. "Well, nevermind that. Too late now anyways."

Bakura's heart beat furiously. Malik had taken the bottom of the golden rod off to reveal a small, golden dagger. The tip of which was now pointed directly at his right eye.

"Scream, love," Malik said, and then he buried the tip of the dagger into Bakura's eye.

He screamed all right. He screamed as the pain hit him and set his body aflame and he screamed as he heard the wet _pop!_ of his eye as the dagger tore it open. He screamed as he felt hot, thick liquid seep out of the spot where his eye had been and he screamed as that same liquid oozed down his face and dribbled over his lips. He screamed as he _tasted_ that liquid goo and his mind balked and told him that this was _not happening! _and he screamed even more. His screams echoed through the large, empty house for no one to hear other than his torturer, and then he couldn't scream any more because the same dagger that had taken his eye had now ripped through his esophagus as it slit his throat and his hot blood ran down white skin in rivers.

He had drowned in his fear after all and all there was left for him now was the darkness, and it greeted him with open, greedy arms.

00000

"He took Mokuba?" Shizuka cried out in horror.

"Man, that guy's got guts," Honda admitted, not without a tone of admiration in his voice. And Jounouchi could understand that pretty well, because he had felt the same thing for the man brave enough to enter the Kaiba mansion uninvited.

"Yeah, but that don't matter! What matters is that we go to Bakura's hideout an' save Mokuba!" Jounouchi exclaimed, pumping his arm in the air.

"What are you so excited about?" Honda asked, surprised. "Thought you hated Kaiba?"

"I do! But we're talkin' about Mokuba 'ere, not his butthole of a brother! We gotta save Mokuba! He's tha only reason we're 'ere, I'm sure of it! You know how Kaiba's always threatenin' to kick us outta his mansion an' back on tha streets? Well I'm sure tha only reason he doesn't is because Mokuba doesn't let 'im! Mokuba's a good kid, even if he is a Kaiba. If his bro tried ta kick us out, there's no way Mokuba would stand for it! So we gotta help 'im!" Jounoichi explained.

"I don't think Kaiba's that bad…" Shizuka mumbled. Thankfully her brother didn't hear that little comment (or he would have gone off on an even bigger tangent) because right at that moment Honda burst out of his chair and threw his fist into the air beside Jou's.

"Yeah! We'll get Mokuba back safe and sound! That will teach Kaiba to threaten us!" He cried out joyously.

"We'll have Moneybags eating out of our hands!" Jou agreed. Shizuka sighed, knowing they could go on for hours making fun of Kaiba. Had before in the past, too. But if they were supposed to be saving Mokuba, sitting about and complaining about his brother wouldn't be any help at all.

"Well come on then boys. Looks like we should get a move on, right?" Shizuka asked, smiling. If they were going to set out on a rescue mission, then they had supplies to gather, plans to figure out… They needed to get a start on all of this!

"Yeah, let's go! We'll show Kaiba that we can handle a task like this!" Honda shouted. Jounouchi agreed rather loudly and Shizuka just laughed at the two's enthusiastic antics. And amid all of the noise and excitement, everyone rather forgot that the point of the mission was not to rescue Mokuba at all.

00000

Ryou had to physically force himself to enter his house. This morning when he had awoken to go to school he had never been so happy before in his life. He had been able to leave the house, escape from the terrifying shadow of his brother, if only for a little while. But now he was back. Now he was covered by that shadow again and it was leeching the life out of him, just like the dark room did.

Normally he was able to forget about the dark room without much difficulty at school. School was a place where he could get away, where he could be normal and fit in, just like everyone else. He didn't have to think about little sisters who had never had a chance to experience the world and who had died with their mothers, or fathers who wasted away to nothing, or the zombie he was living with. He was normal, he was cheerful, he was happy and he had friends who cared for him. It was only when he returned home that he remembered the zombie was cruel and ruthless and the dark room was a fate worse than death and was waiting patiently for him to forget to tiptoe and trod too loudly for the zombie's liking. Or even worse, try to escape his shadow.

Today even that hadn't worked for him. Today he was not cheerful, always happy Ryou, but terrified, inhibited, babyish, screw up Ryou. Today school hadn't been able to banish the zombie or the shadow of the dark room and the hold it held over his mind. Today everywhere he went he expected to see blue-skinned ladies with broken baby dolls and everyone's eyes had been dead like the zombie's. And oh god, had those things really come from his own mind? From _his_ mind? Oh god…! How had he created such monsters? No! _No!_

Now he could feel the shadow in his mind deepen its hold, sink its claws even further into him. Oh, there was no escape for him, not for the boy ruled by the zombie. School wouldn't rescue him and neither would his friends, and now, the cruelest torture, he was being forced to return to the zombie. Mai had wondered why he didn't leave and it was because he couldn't. Oh, he had told her about his glorious little mission, about how he would "save" his brother, and that was all fine and dandy, but it wasn't the real reason. That was the reason optimistic and hopeful Ryou had invented for why he stayed because he didn't want to see the truth. And just as the monsters he had created to torture him in the dark room had told him that the zombie couldn't be saved-

(_"Your brother's soul and humanity died and all that's left now is a zombie existing until his body catches up to the rest of him. You can't save what isn't there and you know it."_)

-they had also told him that he

(can't be saved)

couldn't escape from the zombies grasp on him. The zombie would hold onto him forever because he was still alive and represented what the zombie couldn't have. And he hated that and he wanted that and he

(would kill you for it yes would kill you good kill the light kill the light but he can't hold it he can't have it would burn him burn him not his he hates you for it he wants you for it hates hates hates kill you for it ryou)

(Ryou)

would keep Ryou here for it as long as he could. The zombie might hate him, but he would keep him here until Ryou was dead as well. And that was the sad truth and the monsters whispered it to him mercilessly. Silly Ryou couldn't leave.

So Ryou returned to his empty house and the shadow welcomed him back. The thoughts he had been thinking at school and the fear he had felt there increased exponentially. He was trembling as he took that first step into his house, and the minute he had walked inside he had shrunken against the wall, expecting Bakura to step out of the darkness and hit him for something he had done wrong. The pain and the yelling never came, so after some time had passed and Ryou was sure he would be okay he worked up the nerve to step away from the wall and took off his shoes and then slunk up the stairs into his room.

He wanted to stay up here in his room where it was safe and hide under his bed like a little child trying to avoid the boogyman. He could remember doing just that when he was younger and smaller. It had been dark outside and raining and his nightlight had just died because the power was out. He had tried not to be afraid and to cry but his closet was open just a crack and he thought he could see eyes looking at him. He had just known that it was one of the boogymen from the stories Bakura always told him and so he had hidden under the bed so it couldn't get him. Not too long afterwards his door had opened and he heard someone calling his name. He'd thought it was one of the boogymen trying to trick him, but a moment later he had recognized the voice as Bakura's and he had climbed out from under his bed and thrown himself crying into the arms of his startled older brother.

"What were you doing under there Ryou?" Bakura had laughed.

"H-hidin' from the bo-boogyman," He explained, sniffling. Bakura had laughed even harder and ruffled his white hair fondly.

"You didn't actually believe those stories I told you, did you? Oh boy, mom would be pissed if she knew that," Bakura chuckled sheepishly. He'd smiled down at Ryou and his eyes had been warm and alive.

"Bakura, what does 'pissed' mean?" Ryou had asked next, completely having forgotten for the moment how afraid he had been.

"Nothing. Just don't tell mom I said that, okay? It'll be out little secret," Bakura grinned. Ryou had grinned back at him. He liked sharing secrets with his brother!

"Good! All right, look Ryou, those stories I told you aren't real. There are no boogymen, so you don't have to hide and be afraid. I was just trying to scare you, so I made them all up. There's nothing to be afraid of, nothing at all! You gotta try and remember that and be strong, just like dad, okay?" Bakura had asked.

"Like you too?" Ryou questioned.

"Yeah, like me too," Bakura had laughed. He'd ruffled Ryou's hair again, and Ryou had playfully pushed him away.

"You promise there aren't any boogymen?"

"I promise. And if there are, I'll protect you from them. Because I'm strong like dad."

At that age Ryou had believed his brother because he was cool and older and of course he had to be right. Now though Ryou knew he was wrong. The type of boogymen he had believed in when he'd been a child didn't exist but that didn't mean that there weren't any. Oh, boogymen were real and they came in al different shapes and sizes and kinds. He was living with one, after all.

Even though he didn't want to, Ryou eventually left the safety of his room. He had to feed Marik and give him medicine. He hadn't seen the hitman since he'd been put into the dark room, and for all he knew Bakura hadn't been feeding him. And even if he was fed regularly, it was doubtful that he would have given him the medicine he needed to manage the pain. Bakura was his boogyman and he had to deal with him, no matter how afraid he was. He could never just leave someone else at the wrath of the zombie.

So Ryou, the poor, helpless, unfortunate little boy, left the safety of his room for the uncertainty of the kitchen. Every step he took he expected to be confronted by the monsters birthed from his mind or Bakura, or some worse fear he had yet to experience. Every time he turned a corner he had to look back behind him to make sure there was no creature lying in wake. When he reached the kitchen he raided the fridge and haphazardly threw things onto a plate. Next he gathered the medicine and began his painstakingly slow decent into the basement.

He had to pass by the door to the dark room to get to Marik's cell, and when he reached it he could go no further. His feet were frozen to the floor in front of the door and his body was trembling and shaking. He could hear voices coming from inside the room. They were the voices of the monsters and they were telling him to enter the room and join them.

"Come with us Ryou, come with us! Join us in the darkness! There's no reason to be afraid Ryou, there are no boogymen here Ryou, just you, just you! You'll be safe here Ryou! The darkness isn't bad, it isn't bad at all. It'll keep you safe, it'll be your rescue, just join us! Join us Ryou, join us!"

"No," Ryou whispered, shaking his head slowly. "No, I don't want to. You're lying." And then he could move again, and he began to walk away.

"Ryou!" They wailed after him. "Ryou! Don't go Ryou! Don't! Ryooooouuuu! Join usssss…!"

But Ryou kept going. He didn't want to be in the dark room anymore. He didn't want to remember that it was he who had created those horrifying monsters. He didn't want to know that Bakura was a zombie and that he could never escape his shadow. He didn't want to know any of that, and the dark room represented all of it.

When he reached the room that Marik was housed in he stopped again and did not make a move to continue on. The door was ajar. If everything was right, then the door should _never_ be ajar. But it was. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong, and Ryou felt like he was going to be sick. No more! He pleaded silently. Oh god, no more, please!

He walked into the room with leaden feet. His eyes were glued straight to the wall. Step, _don't wanna be here_, Step, _please let me go_, Step, _something's wrong!_, Step. Each step took agonizing minutes and he screamed to himself to leave but his body was not obeying him. And then he slipped and the plate of food soared out of his hands. His widened brown eyes trailed the arc of the flying plate as he fell and watched it crash and break upon a floor that was strangely enough covered in red. And then Ryou landed on the red ground as well.

He picked himself up slowly and kneeled in the red. Ryou raised his bloodstained hands to his face. His lips were trembling and his skin was crawling. His eyes left his hands and looked at the puddle of blood on the ground. A trail stretched forward from it and led to the old rusty cot where Ryou just now noticed the bulging figure that was lying on it, covered by a blood-splattered sheet. Ryou recognized it as one of Bakura's.

"Oh god," He choked out. "Oh god. Bah-Bakura, what did you do?"

Ryou stood up slowly and approached the cot. His heart thudded painfully in his chest and before he knew it he was standing in front of the cot. He raised a trembling hand to the white sheet and gripped it tightly. His heart pounded so fiercely he could just see it bursting out of his chest and falling onto the sheet, just another stain ha ha. He was sweating and trembling and so much more afraid now than he had ever been in the dark room. And yet he still pulled the sheet back.

He was screaming loudly before his mind even processed the fact that there was no body. Then he noticed this the screaming stopped and he panted heavily. He couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs. Instead of a body there were two pillows—his and Bakura's—dyed red from the sheet. No body. No bod—

The great big steel door behind him creaked and Ryou scream as he nearly jumped out of his skin. He had looked at the door before he could even think that maybe he did not want to.

This time his scream never made it out of his mouth. It died there in his throat. He'd found his body. It was there, oh god it was there, hanging there, oh god, oh god, oh god…

(told you)

Bakura was there, it was Bakura, not Marik like he'd thought it would be, but Bakura.

His brother's body was hanging from the bars on the small window on the steel door, held there by handcuffs. A small golden key was sticking out of them, taunting, urging someone to turn it. His feet trailed uselessly on the floor, dripping blood and smearing it as his body turned on the handcuffs. From his handcuffed wrists down blood was everywhere, splattered on his unnaturally pale skin and drenching his white hair and clothes. There were handprints and smears in the blood. Red, bloodied hair hung down over his face like a curtain.

Ryou wasn't aware of himself moving. He wasn't even fully aware that he was conscious. One moment he was standing at the cot, in the next he was turning the key to the handcuffs. His brother's body fell to the ground like a heavy bag of meat and landed in the puddle of blood that had formed underneath it. Ryou felt some of that same blood spray across his face.

Ryou fell to the ground beside him. He moved the red hair back, and this time when he screamed the noise tore out of him and reverberated through the entire house, sounding more like the tortured howl of an animal than anything human vocal cords could make. Staring up at him was Bakura's empty eye-socket. Goo drizzled down his face, crusted over and dried and it smelled putrid. And his face… His remaining eye was staring at Ryou and his mouth was frozen in a dying scream.

"Oh god Bakura! Oh god Bakura! OH GOD BAKURA!" Ryou screamed, so loudly his vocal cords hurt, and that warped the sound even more. Tears streamed down his face and he shook Bakura back and forth. His head lolled and his body flopped and that one eye remained fixated on him and Ryou could tear himself away from the gruesome sight no more than he could stop the screams that ripped their way through him or the way his arms continued to shake the body before him.

He did not at all notice the glowing of the ring that hung around his neck.

00000

Darkness. Darkness everywhere.

He was floating in a vast, impenetrable darkness. Only floating wasn't the right word. The term "floating" brought up feelings and images of peace, of serenity, of acceptance and calm, and this was none of that. But it was also not the opposite. No pain, no agony, no despair, so not sinking either… He was just there. There in the darkness. Uncomfortably so. He knew he wasn't meant to be here.

There was a reason he was here, he knew it. Had to be. Something he had done…? Something that had been done to him…? He was here for a reason, but he was just here, and the reason was falling, slipping through his fingers the more he thought about it, and he couldn't find it in himself to care. In fact, he didn't seem to care about anything. He was here, here in the darkness. And the darkness was vast and deep, and even if he did search for a reason he wouldn't find it.

He went on. He drifted. He forgot. His reason, his name, his family (hadn't he had one…?), his existence. He couldn't remember a time when the darkness hadn't been there. He was no more. He didn't exist. He didn't remember. Except for one thing. The man. The _man_. There was a man, he didn't know whom or where or why, but there was a man, and that was important.

But as he went on even that didn't matter. Nothing did. There was only darkness and nothing else and he was it and it was him. He was the darkness. He was its birth, he was its death, and he was its existence. Without it, he was nothing, as was it without him. Symbiosis. Mutual need by two parasites.

And then suddenly, there was light. Small, faded, but it was there. Now he was moving, no longer stationary, no longer _there_. He was moving and the light was growing larger, just a little, but he could feel it calling to him. It was warm and comforting and familiar. He knew it. He couldn't remember it, but he knew it.

It called to him and deep inside him he could feel himself answer it. He wanted that light and he followed it mercilessly. He wanted the warmth, he wanted the familiarity. He wanted to remember and he wanted to exist. So he followed it and it called to him deep within and it tried to banish the darkness inside of him but it couldn't because he was the darkness and the darkness was him and they were one.

00000

Bakura awoke.

He was kneeling on the ground and when he got up his head spun. He fell back down to the ground with one hand on the cold linoleum floor to keep himself propped up and the other went to his head to try and stop the dizziness there. It only got worse and worse and soon the world was spinning so crazily the colors were blurring and becoming dark. He thought he might have passed out for a moment.

When he awoke again the dizziness that had grounded him was gone, but he still felt awkward and disoriented. He felt strangely, like somehow his body was not his own, or like someone else had taken possession of it and used it as a meatsuit for their own perverse pleasure for some time. And his head felt strangely as well. Dizziness aside, it felt… full… or stuffed… Different from how it usually was, but how he did not know.

He stood impatiently but the dizziness from before did not return to him. Instead he felt his chest burning, and when he looked down at himself he saw that his shirt was open and that silly ring he had given Ryou was lying against his chest. The metal was glowing and burning fiercely and when he touched it, it lit up brilliantly and then was dull and cool once more. But that had barely even caught Bakura's attention, for when he had touched the ring he had noticed the blood his hands were covered in.

Slowly, slowly, Bakura brought one of his bloodied hands to his neck, and from there traced up to his chin, then to his cheeks, past all of that to his eye, his right eye, leaving a trail of red across the pale expanse of his face. He inadvertently took a step backwards, and that seemed to set something in his mind for then Bakura began to walk forward.

He walked into something cold and hard, yet somehow squishy and almost tripped. But he caught himself and only stumbled instead of falling onto whatever it was. He growled and thought to himself that perhaps Ryou had left something out again, and then he looked down and saw his body.

His first reaction was to cover his mouth and look away quickly lest the contents of his stomach force their way upward. He felt repulsed and afraid and his skin crawled and yet, these were not his feelings. These feelings were foreign and seemed to originate from somewhere… _inside_ him, not _from_ him as they usually would. He experienced these feelings that were somehow not his own, yet he felt a strange sort of detachment. That was his body; those were his wounds, his missing eye, he thought as he turned around to inspect it. That was his body but yet… it was not him. He had been killed, but he was here.

He stared at his mangled body and looked upon his porcelain face. He touched his own cold bloody skin and only felt a slight sickness in the pit of his stomach. Yet he also felt a frigid angst strike his heart and a deep, immense sadness hanging over him. He felt this, yet they were not his feelings.

"What the hell is going on here?" Bakura muttered. He got up and left the red-stained room and headed for the nearest bathroom. When he got to it he stared into the mirror.

He saw his own reflection staring sourly back at him. Bakura raised a hand to his face and ran his fingers down his cheeks. He did it again, and again, and then tugged at the skin on his face. His frown deepened and he inspected the rest of himself, his figure, his weight, his build, even his hair and his clothes. It was him. It was him… but it wasn't. He looked like he normally did, but not completely. He thought he might have been an inch shorter, less muscular, and his clothes… were not his. No, he was not himself. This was not his body. This was…

"Ryou," Bakura said out loud.

Ba-Bakura?

He heard a voice—Ryou's voice—and he spun around wildly, expecting his younger brother to be behind him. Except he wasn't. And the vice hadn't sounded like it had come from behind him, but from… inside… him?

Bakura!

A tsunami of joy crashed into him. The pure feeling was unexcited and Bakura staggered against the kitchen sink. Then the world was turning black again, just like it had before, but there was no dizziness this time. Just dark—dark like before—and then there was light and it began to form a humanoid shape, which took on features and became Ryou.

"Bakura! Oh god Bakura! Bakura! Bakura!" Ryou chanted. He ran up to him and for a fearful minute Bakura thought his outstretched arms would wraps themselves around him in a hug. Thankfully, Ryou either had enough common sense or enough fear not to do that. Instead he came to a short stop in front of him and let his arms drop down to his side. With that the brief panic attack Bakura had felt passed and he was his old uncaring self again. He noted with immeasurable disgust the tears in Ryou's eyes.

"Oh Bakura! I-I-I thought you were dead! I-I-th-there was just so much blood e-everywhere a-and I-I… Y-you were so still and oh god your eye-your eye! I thought-I thought… Y-you weren't breathing, I know, I checked, and I thought you were-I thought you were…! But you're not! You're not! You're right here! You're not, right? Right Bakura?" Ryou stammered. He was looking at Bakura intently, so intently it looked like it were _his _life that depended on the answer. It disgusted Bakura, much more than the sight of his mangled body had, but he took an involuntary step back anyways. He had to get away from such intensity. He couldn't handle it. Normally he would, but right now he was just a little too freaked out because Ryou was wrong, dead wrong, just like his body. Because that had been his body all right, make no mistake about it.

"…I don't know Ryou, okay? Just tell me what happened. Quickly," Bakura added. He felt antsy and uncomfortable and he did not like this, not at all.

"Oh umm, well I suppose I came home from school," Ryou started. Bakura rolled his eyes but continued to listen. "Well I came home, and I went to the kitchen to get food for Marik because I thought he might have been hungry. When I went down to the room there was blood everywhere… and… and then I saw your body…" Ryou's voice had become small and quiet now, and he looked down hesitantly. "I… I'm not exactly sure what happened next. I felt my chest grow hot, and then there was a blinding light, and when I woke up I was here." Ryou gestured to the darkness behind him and as he said "here" everything began to change.

More light began to flood into the darkness and now Bakura was no longer standing in an endless darkness, but was in a small, comfortable square room. There was a bed in one corner, the same one that was normally in Ryou's room. There was a bookshelf filled top to bottom with books, books about fiction and fantasy and adventure, non-fiction books and histories and auto-biographies, research books, school books, old picture books and children's books. Some of the titles of the last group caused a faint stirring of remembrance in Bakura's heart, and he turned away uneasily. There was a desk with papers and more books on it, and that was familiar too, but before Bakura could turn away from it the memory had resurfaced from where he'd hidden it. Father's desk… When he was younger, he'd play hide-and-seek with Ryou, and Ryou would always hide under that desk… He could picture Ryou's babyish face smiling up at him… And then the picture changed, and he could see his father, his father who had always been so strong, the man he'd looked up to, wanted to be just like when he got older… until mother and Amane died… now the picture was of his father again, but no longer strong, only weak, skinny, a shriveled skeleton…

Bakura tore his eyes away from the desk viciously, but they landed back on the bed, the bed that wasn't exactly the same as the one Ryou had in his room. This one was different because of the blanket, the soft, baby blue blanket his mother had woven for him when he'd been born, the one he'd given to Ryou when she'd died, the one that was now sitting with the desk in a far away room locked up and growing old and dusty where no one would see them. Along with the books… The books that were Ryou's favorites, the books he'd read to Ryou as a child. Bakura gripped his head tightly as some phantom pain assaulted his mind and memories tried to force their way in.

His feet carried him closer to the bed, past and Ouija board and some tarot cards, things he vaguely remembered Ryou having been interested in, past an assortment of wooden figurines and a die from some game Ryou had played, past an old teddy bear he knew mother had given to Ryou when he was a baby, past an unfinished letter he caught was addressed to Amane, right up to a small desk by the bed with a picture frame on it. He picked up the picture frame with trembling hands and gripped it tightly. There were mother and father, both young and pretty and in love, laughing without a care in the world. They were both holding up Amane, who'd been a chubby three year-old. She was smiling cheerfully and looked every bit as beautiful as his elegant mother. And down at the bottom of the picture were two young boys with long white hair and identical smiles. Bakura and Ryou. He was trying to lift Ryou up so he could be in the picture too. His father's strong hand was behind him, helping him keep Ryou up without dropping him.

As Bakura looked at the picture his lips twisted every now and then, like they were trying to morph into the bright smile they had worn in the picture. Bakura's knuckles whitened as he clenched the picture and closed his eyes. He had been able to smile once. He almost couldn't believe it. He couldn't remember ever having been so happy. But Ryou could. Ryou could remember and it was all reflected here in this room to bring him happiness. But for Bakura these things were hidden far away, where they couldn't hurt him. He put the picture frame down. Not fair. Not fair! Why was Ryou able to have such things? Why could he look upon them and feel happy, while Bakura could only escape further into his dark, dark heart? Why couldn't he be happy? Damnit! _Not fair!_

He spun around to lash out at Ryou, maybe hit him, anything to make him feel better, but now another corner of the room captured his attention. This part of the room was darker then all the others and somehow more sinister, and as he looked at it he felt his anger draw away. The more he stared, the more he could almost hear cruel laughter, could almost see the image of some lone, blue-skinned lady with a baby doll staring back at him…

"Bakura…? Ahh… did you hear what I said?"

With some force Bakura tore himself away from the dark corner and faced Ryou again. He had heard him all right; he had just been… distracted… by the things in the room to pay it that much attention. Even now, he was trying to keep himself from drifting back to anything he'd rather not think about and to stop more useless memories from distracting him from what he had to do. He was not the same carefree child he'd been in those memories anymore. He no longer knew how to shape his lips into such a happy smile. He was different now, changed by all that he had been through and all that he had faced. He was strong now and he could face anything. He didn't need to be afraid anymore.

"Yeah I heard," Bakura grumbled. "You said you were by my body when your chest got all hot, right?" Ryou flinched at the word "body" but he nodded anyways. "Yeah well when I woke up that ring of yours was glowing brightly. Then it just kind of faded. It's gotta be the reason I'm still here."

"Wh-what do you mean Bakura?" Ryou questioned nervously. Bakura glared hard.

"I'm dead Ryou. You know it, I know it, there's no point in acting like it isn't true. That was my body we both saw. Now I don't know how or why it happened, but for some reason even though my body is dead, I'm still here. Maybe my soul was saved or some crap like that, I don't know. What I do know is that I woke up in your body Ryou, and it that's the way things are, then I'm going to have to use it for a while until I can find some way to fix this," Bakura explained.

"'Fix…?'" Ryou trailed off. "Fix what Bakura? And… What are you going to do? I-I don't understand."

Bakura sighed impatiently. "I'm taking control of the body, got it? And I'm gonna get out of this place and track down Marik—or Malik, whoever the fuck he wants to call himself—and I'm going to figure out that the hell is going on and how to fix it. He had some kind of stick thing, something with a dagger attached to it. Looked a lot like that ring of yours. And if the ring has some kind of weird magic to it, I'm betting his rod thing does too."

"W-wait! Marik? What did he do? And who's Malik?" Ryou questioned. He sounded slightly panicked now, but instead of grimacing at any sign of weakness like he normally did, Bakura smirked widely.

"Watch carefully. You might learn something." And then he was back and Ryou and that room of his were gone. He stood once more in front of the bathroom sink. Ryou's body, Ryous face in the mirror, but not exactly. Ryou wasn't as tall, not as strong. Ryou's hair was calm and subdued, his shirt always tightly buttoned and neat. His lips never smirked, only smiled. And of course, his eyes were always warm and shining brightly with life. Ryou's body, Ryou's face worn like a meatsuit. Not Ryou, but Bakura.

Bakura! What are you doing?

"Well first I've got a bit of… housekeeping, you could say, that needs to be taken care of. It seems that with these recent developments, I'm in need of a babysitter. Then I'll head after Marik. When that Malik psycho was cutting me open, something happened. I saw a little into his mind. Most of it I couldn't understand. He's fucking insane, let me tell ya. But I did see a man. Tall, bald, with some fucked up tattoo all over his face. I don't know why, but Malik wants to kill him. He's somewhere by Kaiba, hiding in some hotel. All of that I saw clearly. And if crazy really wants to do him in that badly, well then, that's where he'll be. So that's where I'll go," Bakura explained, still smirking. Ryou kept babbling, but Bakura ignored him easily enough, concentrating solely on entertaining thoughts of revenge in his mind. Marik, Malik whichever one it was, he had killed him. And that was not acceptable. Oh, all the various ways to make one feel pain…

00000

If anyone had seen the Jounouchi Trio walking down the streets, they would not have looked at them twice. They looked like just a normal group of kids, two friends and the girl both of them were chasing after perhaps. At least it certainly seemed that way with all of the joking going on between the blonde and his spiky-haired friend and the flirting between said friend and the auburn-haired girl in the group. No one would have ever assumed the three worked for a powerful mob boss and were now on their way to rescue their employer's kid brother. Nope, just a normal bunch of kids.

And truth be told, the Jounouchi Trio wasn't even putting any effort into maintaining this facade. They were just acting the way they normally did. That's right, even on an important mission such as this one, Jounouchi and Honda were still taking turns at impersonating Kaiba and Honda was still trying to gain the favor of the ever-protesting Shizuka. It was no wonder the three were so good at reconnaissance. They could easy blend into any setting without even trying.

"Wait wait wait! I got it!" Honda loudly exclaimed. "This one'll be great!" He confided in Shizuka, elbowing her in the side. Shizuka rolled her eyes but smiled on and watched anyways. Honday rubbed his hands together and smoothed his hair back, then straightened his jacket and cleared his throat.

"Heh heh hem… hello, my name is Kaiba Seto, and I have a huge stick jammed up my ass. It's so far up there you can almost see it when I open my mouth to bitch. Every single day I have my worthless mutt come into my room and jam it further up there, just in case it slipped out a little in the hour or so I take to sleep," Honda mimicked. Jounouchi burst out laughing and Shizuka had to stifle back a chuckle.

"Oh, it's far up there alright!" Jounouchi laughed.

"Well, you would know, eh Jou? When I mentioned that mutt of Kaiba's, you know I was talking about you, right? So you like shoving that stick up ol' Kaiba's rear end, huh?" Honda joked slyly.

"Wh-wh-wh-wh-WHAT? No way! Huh-uh, no way! No! I hate Kaiba! Hate 'im! If he weren't paying' us, I woulda beat the crud outta him by now!" Jounouchi protested loudly.

"Me thinks thou doth protest too much," Shizuka giggled, taking immense pleasure in the way her brother's entire face turned bright red.

"Yeah!" Honda joined it. "And you know Kaiba enjoys it too! He's always picking on Jounouchi to do things for him at the office late at night, or other stuff like that! I think the two of them have something going on!"

"He does have a point you know," Shizuka smiled.

"But it ain't true! I don't care anything about that Moneybags! I hate his guts! If I didn't like Mokuba I wouldn't even be 'ere tryin' ta get that kid back for 'im! I hate 'im!" Jounouchi roared, growing so loud the people on the street actually started to look at them with more than just curiosity.

"Okay okay! We know how you feel about Kaiba, we do! We were just joking! But it's okay now, we'll stop!" Shizuka spoke up. Jounouchi continued to grumble, but he was quieter now and people were no longer stopping to look at them. And so they continued on their way to the place Kaiba had on record as Bakura's hideout. The joking started up again eventually, but when they actually reached the house it stopped immediately. Time for business.

Up until they reached the Bakura household the Jounouchi Trio had been laughing and light-hearted and just generally having a good time. When they got to the desolate-looking house however, that mood changed drastically into a somber, cautious one. Now was not the time for childish antics and fooling around. Now they had a rescue mission to complete, and they had to pay attention.

The house was on the outskirts of the city, quite a ways from its neighbors. The Jounouchi Trio already knew from Kaiba's files on Bakura that the house had originally been purchased by the parents of the family, and after some years of no one living in it due to Bakura not begin able to pay the cost of upkeep, it had again fallen into his hands when he'd bought it back. Convenient for him, because with no neighbors around he could do whatever he wanted without having to worry about noisy visitors.

The three had spent all of yesterday figuring out what kinds of equipment they would need to bring with them and how they would accomplish the rescue. It should not have taken an entire day, but the Jounouchi Trio had never been able to prepare for a mission without arguing about it first. And on a mission as important as this one, a lot of arguing had happened. Which was bad, but now as all three scoped out the household in front of them, it looked like it might have been for the best. Bakura did not seem to be home.

Nodding to each other, Jounouchi, Shuzuka, and Honda all split up to search the perimeter. Any surveillance cameras they encountered they disabled, mainly by breaking said cameras. It was not the professional way to do it and Bakura would realize right away what was going on if he were home, but he didn't seem to be. If it had been just a few cameras they could have scrambled the feed and infiltrated the house that way. But there were a great deal more than a few, and the equipment they would have needed to sabotage all of them was not available to them. (After all, they were _supposed_ to be doing a reconnaissance mission and _not_ a rescue one.) At any rate, if Bakura or any bodyguards came looking for them, well, they'd bolt. It was risky, but Jou loved risky.

After the cameras had been taken care of (and there had been a lot of them too—apparently this guy was _really_ paranoid), Jounouchi, Shizuka, and Honda met up to the side of the house where they were the least amount of windows. There, Shizuka carefully snuck up to one of these windows (Shizuka because she was the fastest one of the trio and could get away if something went wrong) and carefully cut a small hole in the glass. From there she used a file to cut through the screen, then placed a small, big-looking robot on the windowsill. She darted back to Jounouchi and Honda, and then they began looking around.

Much as Jounouchi hated to admit it, Kaiba was a technical genius. As its cover KaibaCorp specialized in holograms and virtual reality games. However, it also made technological devices such the one the Jounouchi Trio was using to help them. This device was a walking camera, designed to look like an average, everyday insect. It was a brilliant machine that made reconnaissance missions much easier, which was why Kaiba had allowed them to use it, despite the risk of them breaking it. (And only then he'd let them use it because they were searching for Mokuba. It was expensive after all.) The only drawbacks to it were the rather slow speed at which it traveled, the grainy feedback it gave, and the five hundred yard range you had to be in to use it. Still, at least they had something.

"I don't think he's here guys," Shizuka announced thoughtfully. All three of them were sitting huddled around a small screen, watching everything the bug saw. According to the blueprints they had of the house, the bug had almost finished touring it.

"Yeah, I didn't see anyone in there. You think we should just go in?" Honda asked.

"Guess so. We gotta try out the doors the bug couldn't get into an' search for Mokuba. An' we ain't gonna get anything done by sittin' around out 'here. Just be sure ta stick together an' watch out for anyone that might be in there," Jounouchi said. Shizuka nodded and Honda flashed him a grin and a thumbs up. With that decided, they all went in.

The first thing that put them all on edge was that when they got right up the the house they noticed the front door was open. That definitely meant something was up. Given all of the security cameras set up around the house, one could make a pretty reasonable guess that this Bakura character was paranoid. And if that was the case, there was no way he would have left his door wide open. Nah, something was wrong here.

The trio continued on their tour, and like the bug had shown, every room was empty. They found the control room where the camera feed was shown. While they were inside the room, Honda shut everything down so none of the cameras inside the house would film them. It was easier then smashing them all anyways. After that quick detour they continued on to the rooms the bug hadn't been able to get to, the rooms in the basement.

All the doors in the basement were locked up tight. The place was as deserted as the rest of the house had been, and it gave off an eerie feeling too, like out of all the places in this house, this was the one area they _really_ shouldn't go in.

"I don't like it here guys. Maybe we should leave. It doesn't feel right, and I don't think Mokuba is in here anyways. Let's go back upstairs. Maybe there's a room we missed or something," Shizuka urged.

"It looks like there's a door open down there," Honda pointed out, ever helpful. Shizuka glared at him, but apparently he missed it, and so they continued on thier way to the one magically opened door.

"I sure hope Mokuba wasn't in this one," Honda stated when they reached it. He was just sanding there, staring into the room. He didn't make a move to go in. Shizuka stood beside him. The strange feeling was coming from this room, she knew it And it was bad. She didn't want to look in the room, but she had to. It was her job. She had to find Mokuba. So she closed her eyes and counted to three, and when she opened them and looked she almost screamed.

"What is goin' on 'ere?" Jounouchi asked. The room was covered in blood. And lying in the middle of a large red puddle was Bakura.

00000

"And so I was really worried. I mean, I've never seen him act like that before. And he wasn't at school again today. I don't think he's sick, but he won't tell me what's really going on, and I don't know what to say. What do you think I should do?"

Yami thought about his little brother's question long ad hard. Yuugi was usually able to help his friends out easily, and while he often sought advice from his older brother, most of the time it was just to make sure he was doing the right thing. He couldn't even think of a time when the younger of the two didn't have some sort of idea for how he could help already thought out. The fact that Yuugi was trusting him to help so completely didn't escape Yami at all. Instead, he felt a large weight placed on him, and he knew that he had to think carefully about his answer, for the sake of his precious brother.

"You said Ryou wasn't telling you the truth, correct? And you fear whatever is wrong may be something with his brother?" Yami asked. Yuugi nodded eagerly. "Well then. Yuugi, I would say that you have to make sure to trust your friend. He may not be telling you what's wrong, but that could be because he's trying to deal with his problems by himself. Just trust in your friendship and stick by his side. Show him through your actions that you are there for him and that he can talk to you and doesn't need to feel afraid. For now, I think that is the best course of action. Though if he continues to miss school and won't answer your questions, you might want to consult a teacher or counselor about it," Yami advised. Yuugi thought about it for a minute, then his large eyes slowly lit up and a smile spread across his face.

"Yeah! I'll try that! Ryou's been my friend for a long time now, so he'll tell me eventually. I just have to show him that I'm listening, right? I'm sure he'll be at school again tomorrow!" Yuugi exclaimed.

"Right" Yami reassured. "If his problem does have something to do with his brother, he may not want to tell you about it right away. But as long as you show your friend that you're there for him and always will be, I'm sure he'll confide in you. Ryou is a good boy with a strong head on his shoulders. He couldn't keep anything from you, Yuugi. I'm sure he'll tell you, just give him some time," Yami said. At that point in time any further discussion was stopped by the ring of the telephone.

"I have to get that, Yuugi. It could be the station," Yami said, looking toward the phone. "Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

"No, that's okay," Yuugi smiled. Yami nodded and moved his chair away from the big wooden table they had been sitting at in the kitchen. He headed for the living room and then for the phone, leaving Yuugi to clean the plates from their usual after school lunch. He passed by various trophies and awards as he walked, all addressed out to Yami Motou, some from back when he'd bee in high school like Yuugi was, most given to him much more recently for all the men he'd brought to justice and all the dangers he had faced. He was a good officer and the chief knew that and made sure to award him thoroughly. But for Yami, he didn't risk his life everyday for the fame and recognition. No, he did what he did to make sure the world was a safer place for his brother and all the other people out there.

"Hello?" Yami answered. "Mr. Mouto speaking."

"Ahh Yami! Good good! There's a job I'm looking at right here and I think you would be perfect for it. If you'd like, we can assign you to it right away." The familiar gruff voice of chief Sugoroku greeted him, getting straight down to business as usual.

"What exactly is it sir?" Yami asked seriously. Sugoroku was much kinder than the heads of other stations, and Yami often looked to him for advice as a father figure, but when it was business they were discussing, he was always serious.

"We got a call from a man named Seto Kaiba pretty early in this morning. Maybe you've heard of him? He's the CEO of Kaiba Corp. It's a small company, not too big yet, but it sure has potential to grow into something big. Anyways, he wanted to report a kidnapping. Apparently late last night someone broke into his mansion and took a few valuables _and_ his kid brother. We had a squad over there the moment we got the call to see what we could find, but so far none of the evidence has come back from the labs with results we can actually use. We've got some partial fingerprints and a lot of smudged ones. Whoever did it wasn't messing around. We're still hoping to get lucky, but at least we've got the partials for sure. We're also working on interviewing all the servants and maids that were working that night, but it looks like none of them saw anything. Quite a sticky situations we've got on our hands," Sugoroku explained.

"Have you run the fingerprints through the database? How many hits did we get?" Yami inquired. His attention was now fully held by the case being described, the one that was beginning to look like it would be his own.

"Too many to be useful," Sugoroku laughed. "Oh sure, we've ruled some out, but we really need something more concrete If only we could get a full print… But anyways Yami, how does it sound to you? Something you'd be interested in? Just know though that once the kidnapping gets out the reporters will be all over it. Seto Kaiba is a known name, even if only to a few. He's not just some poor guy off the streets. So how 'bout it?" Sugoroku asked. Yami didn't even need a second to mull it over.

"Of course I'll take the case. I can be at the station in twenty minutes if you need me to be," He responded.

"No no, that's fine. You're off now, so enjoy your night. I'll tell you more about it tomorrow. When you get there just report to my office. Maybe we'll have some more useful information by then too," Sugoroku laughed.

"Yes sir!" Yami said.

"Good, very good. Just between you and me, I'm glad you took this. Something tells me it's going to be a hard one. I've just got this weird feeling…" Sugoroku trailed off. Yami listened intently. Now that the chief mentioned it, something was also telling him that this might not be a normal case… "Ahh, but don't listen to me. It's just the ramblings of an old man. Anyways, I'm glad you're on this case. You're the best officer we've got on the force."

"Thank you sir," Yami replied. As quickly as it had come, that strange feeling had been banished away with Sugoroku's doubts.

"Well I'll let you get back to your business now and I'll see you tomorrow," Sugoroku said. When the head the chief hang up Yami did the same. He thought he hadn't been on the phone for too long, and if he hurried now he could help Yuugi with the dishes and see if there was anything else the boy wanted to tell him. Instead he stood there silently, one hand still on the phone. The other was around the golden pyramid that hung constantly from his neck. The metal felt strangely warm, and the feeling he'd experienced earlier was back. Perhaps Sugoroku had been right. There was something off about this case. The golden pyramid seemed to glow in agreement.

* * *

Okay! First things first! The chapter name. Frankenstein. As many of you may not know, Frankenstein is NOT the name of the monster, it is the name of the creator. Victor Frankenstein is the one who created the monster. The monster has no name, it's just the monster. And while movies like to make Frankenstein's monster appear to be some evil creature, in Mary Shelly's book, the monster was not really evil at all. He just wanted Frankenstein to create another monster for him, a female one so that he could have companionship. It was only when Victor Frankenstein refused to do this that his creation started to kill the people he loved. There's some background for you all, and yes, I did name this chapter Frankenstein for a reason. Maybe it'll be clear, maybe it won't, but there is a method behind it!

Next! Woah! Major plot! Am I right? Wahahah, I killed off Bakura! That's right, he's dead! Hmm, I've never done that before. Usually I end up killing Marik. I seem to like torturing Marik. And I brought in Malik! Haha, did anyone guess that was going to happen? That's why I was focusing in on Marik's eyes so much. And how did everyone like the little snippets we got of Bakura in the past compared to Bakura now? Aside from the cool plot stuff, this has to be my favorite chapter I've written so far because it expresses both how Bakura and Ryou see each other now and in the past. I luvs it! And did anyone catch how when Ryou returns back to the house from school, he first refers to Bakura as a zombie and a bogyman, but the moment he sees his body Bakura is his brother again, instead of some ghoulish fiend? Ahh, brotherly love!

Okay, and now I'm quite done rambling. I apologize for the ending of this chapter, as I feel it was a little rushed. I may tidy it up a bit later and extend on it, so if I do, I'll let you all know in the next chapter. Okay, that's it now. Please review! I would really love to hear what everyone thinks about this chapter, because I put a lot of thought into it and worked really hard! Thank you!


	6. The Half

This story lives! Haha, though it has honestly taken forever, with the advent of this chapter, _Deadly Ambivalence_ is officially off it's two-year long hiatus! Wow, that's a bit depressing almost that it took me so long. It's not even that long of a chapter, and I'm afraid I feel like I've gotten a bit rusty... As I mentioned in my AN though, this chapter does not have Bakura and Marik in it, and for that reason I feel like it's a bit lacking and it took me much longer than I had assumed to get motivated to write it. But that problem will be fixed in chapter seven!

Before actually getting to the chapter, I would just like to thank everyone who has actually cared enough to keep asking me when the story was getting off hiatus, or to send the odd review here or there to remind me that there were people who enjoy this fanfic and would love to see it finished. Thank you all very much, and I hope to not disappoint with future chapters. This will reach the end!

Also! Note! "The half" is a term used to describe the half hour interval actors have to ready themselves for the stage before the show actually starts.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh.

* * *

Shizuka hadn't been able to remain in the room. She'd remained long enough to determine that the body in the room actually was Bakura's and then left. Just thinking about the bloodied space and what had been inside it made her want to vomit. She couldn't stand to think about it, but she had to. It was her job to think about it and to figure out what had happened, and she was going to do her job. Just… not right now. She wouldn't do it yet. So she explored the rest of the household instead.

Shizuka made her way to the control room where she found the very thing she'd been hoping to find: a circle of keys. Before, when the three of them had been in the room, they'd been more concerned with the camera screen then looking at the rest of the area. With these, hopefully she would open up the other doors of the basement and see what was behind them.

She shuddered as she walked past the room Jounouchi and Honda were still inspecting. She kept her eyes down. She did not want to see inside that room again just yet. Instead, she started on the far left end of the hall opposite the stairs. The room there was locked, as she'd already known it would be, but she got it opened without much trouble. It was a small room, more of a closet than anything else. Inside of it was what looked to be a heap of broken mechanical parts. She recognized old cameras and screen monitors peeking through piles of wires and other circuitry. She wasn't quite sure why the room had been locked. It looked like a junk heap to her.

The second room along the wall opposite the one that Shizuka did _not_ want to think about had two locks on it in addition to the door lock. The ring held several keys, and Shizuka rifled through each before finding the one that opened the first lock. She got lucky with the second and opened it on her third try, but the last lock proved to be just as troublesome as the first. She hoped there was something amazingly interesting in the room for all the trouble it had caused her. And there was.

It was a big room, about the size of a large garage more likely, though there were not any cars in it. Being that Bakura was a mob boss of the same vein as her own employer, she expected such a large place to be full of weapons and illegal drugs just waiting to be shipped off to different parts of the world, but there wasn't any of that either. There was just… furniture.

In the epicenter of the room was a large wooden table. She knocked her fist against the smooth surface of it experimentally. It was solid wood, and looked expensive. Why was it being locked up and not put to use? The three of them had passed a dining table in one of the rooms on the first floor, but it had not been as grand or as elaborate. It didn't make sense to not replace the one out there with this.

There were other strange things in the room, other pieces of furniture. A desk that looked like it had been carved from a similar wood as the table and appeared equally as expensive. The legs of the desk had shallow nicks in the wood, visible only when one was inspecting it as closely as Shizuka was. They were few and tiny and she didn't think they mattered enough to not use the desk. Much like with the table, she couldn't think of a reason as to why it would be in here and left soon in search of what else could be found in the room.

There were chairs and couches and seats and even a bed. She saw a bookcase packaged tightly with the dusty spines of old books and several beautiful display cases complete with gorgeous collections. There were other things hidden underneath tarps or in chests. More furniture, old clothing, some paintings here and there. The entire room was filled helter-skelter with so many wonderful things that Shizuka felt more than a bit melancholic just looking at it all. Yet she did not leave until she discovered the photo album.

She slowly opened the first page. The book was dusty and the pages yellowed from age. The photograph it opened to was a picture of a family with three young children.

Now Shizuka was an employee of Seto Kaiba's but it wasn't because she liked her employer or because she liked the job she was forced to do. But she and Jounouchi needed the money and home that Kaiba provided them with. That being said, she tried not to interact with Seto Kaiba's business as much as she could. She did not know a single thing about Bakura other than his name. She did not know about his family, what his life was like or his past. She did not know what kind of person he was. She didn't want to and she didn't need to to do her job, so she didn't. Shizuka only knew that the oldest of the children in the photo was him because she could see how he had grown into the dead man they had found lying on the floor. She dropped the album with a startled cry and left the room with tears in her eyes.

She didn't bypass the last door along the wall on purpose. Shizuka ran out of the room and stopped only when she was standing in front of the door to the room next to the bad one. The keys dangled in her hands and she lifted them slowly to open the door. She didn't like the feel of this room. It wasn't melancholic and lonely like the one with the furniture, but it didn't scare her in the way the room next to her did. The key that opened it was the second to last. The door opened and she saw nothing at all.

She felt along the wall for a light switch but there was none to be found. Perhaps it was further along the wall? Shizuka took her phone out and stepped into the blackness. She blinked. It was dark. Even with her phone out and the door opened, she was still having a hard time seeing. She didn't like it much, but she wanted to know what could possibly be in this room. Except she must have made her way to the other side of the room and she still hadn't found a light switch or tripped over anything. As far as she could tell, it was completely empty.

She'd been concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and hadn't noticed the door to the room closing until it had done so. Suddenly the room was that much darker and Shizuka dropped her phone in surprise. The screen remained lit for ten seconds before it turned off and Shizuka was faced with a blackness deeper than anything else she'd ever seen. Suddenly she understood that the room didn't _need_ to have anything in it, because this was terrifying enough, this was _awful_. She wanted to bend and pick up her phone but she couldn't move at all. Her wide eyes stared blindly forward into the blackness all around her. She imagined it moving in closer to grab her, reaching out to touch her and oh _god_ she didn't want it to touch her she didn't want to be here oh god oh _god_ please don't let it touch me please don't oh god oh

"Jounouchi!" Shizuka screamed. "_Jounouchi!_"

The door opened and the light poured in and she ran crying into her brother's arms.

"Shizuka! What's wrong? What is it?" Jounouchi demanded. Shizuka shook her head and buried her face even further into his chest. She felt Honda put an arm around her and lead the two of them out of the room. She immediately felt better when she was in the hallway once more. She calmed herself slowly and stood on her own once she was sure that she could.

"What 'appened?" Jounouchi questioned once more. Shizuka shook her head.

"Nothing, I… The door closed, and I dropped my phone. I was just afraid, I suppose. It's silly…"

"Here," Honda said. Her phone was in his hands, and Shizuka accepted it gratefully. "I grabbed it after we got you out of there. I know what you mean about it being creepy though. I don't like it either. The whole place has got bad mojo."

"Thank you, Honda," Shizuka said. Even if her fear was still silly, she felt better after hearing Honda's words. She gave him a small smile and Honda returned it tenfold. Jounouchi seemed to grow tired of being excluded from the conversation (or from having to watch Honda try to flirt with his baby sister) and quite loudly cleared his throat to grab the attention of the two next to him and bring it back to him.

"So we got a problem 'ere guys. Bakura's dead asa doorknob, an' I don't think we'll be findin' Mokuba anywhere in 'ere. So what do we do?"

"Ahh, you're right, Jou, we can't go back to Kaiba like this! He'll skin us for sure!" Honda exclaimed.

"Well… did you find anything in the room? Any clues? Or anything on the body?" Shizuka asked. The body wasn't really a thing any of them wanted to think about, especially not Shizuka. Finding it had been a surprise for everyone. IF there had been a body to be found, none of them would say it out loud, but they had all thought it would be Mokuba's. Coming across Bakura's was not only unexpected but also frightening. Something terrible had happened and none of them had the slightest clue what it had been.

"'e looked like those woundsa 'is were made with a knife. Can't say anythin' else 'bout it for sure. Wasn't a knife in there an' wasn't anything' in the room that coulda told us who did this," Jounouchi explained.

"You don't think… that Mokuba could have done it, do you?" Shizuka asked, horrified by the mere idea.

"Nah. There's no way 'e could 'ave done somethin' like that. I'm thinkin' maybe it was one of those assassins who did it. Kaiba sent two of 'em an' said that both failed, but maybe of of 'em didn't. Maybe one of 'em took Mokuba," Jounouchi suggested.

"Then we need to go back to that room with the cameras and see what we can figure out," Honda said.

00000

Yami woke up early the next say. He showered and dressed while Yuugi did the same. When he finally got down to the kitchen, his younger brother had made breakfast and was on his way out the door to catch a bus. Yami waved to him and then he was gone. The small grin remained on Yami's face as he sat down to eat. Yuugi had always been a morning person. Yami wasn't really alive in the morning until he'd had at least two cups of coffee and something to eat. His first cup was brewing now. When it finished, he downed it in creamer and sugar. He'd been a vast consumer of coffee for years now and he had still never grown accustomed to the bitter taste of it.

He thanked Yuugi silently in his mind for the breakfast as he locked the house up and got into his car to head down to the station. He'd just ended a large case about a week ago, but he couldn't say he wasn't eager to begin another. Contrary to popular belief held by those at the work office, Yami was not a workaholic. He regretted the fact that he was not able to spend more time with Yuugi. He didn't exactly _want_ to spend the majority of his days at the office or beating the pavement, but it was something he felt like he needed to do. He wasn't always there for Yuugi when his brother needed him, but this job was as much a way of protecting Yuugi as it was protecting every other innocent in the city. He couldn't stand for people to get hurt. He didn't like knowing that there were people in this world who believed that they did not have to abide by the rules of society. He worked as much as he did because he wanted to stop these injustices from occurring.

That, and if he were to be honest with himself, it was a bit of a game to him. His track record was the best of any officer in the precinct. Several times Sugoroku had offered him a promotion, but Yami turned them down time after time without fail. He didn't want a desk job, even if the pay was good and it would require less of his time. He wanted to be on the street and feeling like his every day was spent bettering those streets. Yami had put away more criminals than any of his peers. Of those criminals, the one's he'd put away were also the most likely to reform completely and re-enter society as honest workers. Yami liked to see how much more he could increase that record.

Otogi met him just before he entered the building.

"There you are. I was starting to think you'd never show," the ebony-haired man joked as Yami got out of his car.

"I arrive at work the same time every day, Otogi. And I'm never late," Yami replied.

"That's true," Otogi commented. "If anything, your work schedule is boringly consistent. I shudder to think about how you spend what little time you get at home. How does an interesting kid like Yuugi stand you?"

"Yuugi knows how to appreciate my consistency," Yami explained. Otogi chuckled lightly and followed him into the building.

Otogi had been Yami's partner for close to a year now. At the time when Otogi had come into the precinct, Yami's former partner had transferred to a different city and a higher ranking, leaving Yami in need of a new face. At the time, he could not have said he was happy about the decision.

Ryuuji Otogi had just graduated from the academy, a bit earlier than most. His father had been an influential officer, and although it was rumored that the son was much more concerned with games and inventions than police work, he'd gotten great scores and reviews and his name had spread quickly. Yami had been interested to meet the young man who had been chosen as his new partner and had built his image up in his mind to a certain ideal. When he actually met Otogi and found that that image was completely incorrect, he'd been more than a bit disappointed and hadn't understood how a person like Otogi could possibly be interested in this line of work.

With his long silky black hair, snake green eyes, boyish face, slim form and conniving smirk, he'd looked more like a male model than a police officer. For the first month of their partnership, Yami hardly talked to him. He was skilled, true, but to Yami he still seemed like a child. His impetuous attitude and inability to take anything seriously had bothered Yami more than he'd thought was possible.

He couldn't say what had changed that view. Time, he supposed. Yuugi as well. His brother was able to see the best in anyone. As partners, it had only been a matter of time until the two met. There was a bit of an age difference between them, but the two had bonded over their mutual love of games. And Yami had come to see that yes, Otogi was still young and reckless, but that wasn't a bad thing. His easygoing attitude often gave Yami a new outlook on how he viewed certain situations. He even found that talking with Otogi could be a relaxing thing. He was quite glad that they had become partners after all.

Now he headed into the building and Sugoroku's office with Otogi in tow. The other man was in a cheerful mood today. He usually was, but it seemed a bit off for that to be the case today. Yami was no longer bothered by his partner's carefree attitude, but he knew for a fact that Otogi would rather lounge around inside the office or patrol the streets than work on a case. There was no real reason for him to be as happy as he was, unless there was something Yami did not know of. Then Sugoroku called them into his office and suddenly Yami understood.

He could tell right away that she was a rookie. Likely, she hadn't even graduated from the academy yet. Her uniform didn't fit quite right on her, and she was smiling in that terrified way newbies on their first day of the job smiled. She was young, attractive enough to garner Otogi's attention. She had short chestnut brown hair and soft eyes that held Yami's scrutiny more than anything else. Something about the kindness he saw in them reminded him of Yuugi.

"Ah, Yami, Otogi! I'd like to introduce you both to this beautiful young woman here! Her name is Anzu Mazaki and she'd just completed her first year at the academy and wanted a look at how real police work gets done. Now I know it's a bit unorthodox, but she begged and pleaded with me so much that I just had to give her one of the more engaging cases to observe. If it's not too much trouble, I thought she could accompany the two of you and get a feel for how the pros do it," Sugoroku said. The chief was a short, wide man with gray hair and a naturally cheerful disposition. He was more like a father figure than a boss, but rumor had it that he'd been a fierce officer in his earlier days. He spent most of his time now behind a desk, but he was still very aware of what was going on in the streets and in the lives of his officers. Yami had the utmost level of respect for him. Although that didn't mean he always agreed with his decisions.

"Sir, I'm not sure that she would be—" Yami started. He understood wanting to give the girl experience, and it was honorable that she was looking for that experience on her own, but a kidnapping case with the victim being the brother of a high-profile man like Seto Kaiba was just asking for trouble. He was going to say exactly that, but the next thing he knew, Otogi's hand was on his mouth.

"—happy doing anything else!" Otogi finished. "Don't worry, sir, we'll take good care of her! We'll show her all the tricks and form her into a great cop like us in no time!"

"Wonderful! Well not that that's settled, let me tell you about the new case." Sugoroku smiled and handed all of them files, including the rookie. Otogi removed his hand to grab the file and Yami let him know that he was not pleased. Otogi smiled innocently. Yami continued to stare. Sugoroku's face looked amicably on. Anzu didn't seem to know what she was doing. Yami sighed and resigned himself to the fact that he was now going to be working with this girl and opened up the case file.

Staring back at him was a photo of Seto Kaiba. He was young to be the CEO of a company, even if it was on the smaller side. The file listed his age as twenty-three. He looked a bit older than that, but not by much. His eyes were cold even on paper, and his mouth was a hard angry line. In comparison, his brother Mokuba, whom the file listed as eleven, was cheerful and happy. His long black hair was wild and crazy and his brown eyes were warm. The file also listed the time that the elder Kaiba had called and a brief transcript of said call. The fingerprints found at the house were also there, but as Sugoroku had said on the phone, they weren't of much help.

"As you can see, we don't have much useful information yet. We've dusted for prints and found a few, but nothing conclusive has shown up. Background searches have been done on all the servants in the house the night in was broken into, and alibis and fingerprints have been taken. Nothing on any of them has shown up either. No one who has gone to the house has been able to get a hold of Mr. Kaiba for an official statement. A Mr. Crawford who works for Kaiba told us that his boss was at the office and gave us the address. I would like for the three of you to drive up to the office and interview the elder brother. Find out what he knows about all of this and if he can name anyone who may have committed the crime. Oh, and show Ms. Mazaki around as well!"

"Of course. We'll report back to you if we find anything of interest," Yami said.

"Very good! Good luck!" Sugoroku called out to them as they left the office. Yami glanced to Otogi, who shrugged and motioned with his head to the door leading out of the building. Yami nodded and they both walked to the door and around the building to Yami's car. He didn't even think about their guest until she finally opened her mouth and spoke.

"Should I just… go in the back?"

Both Otogi and Yami turned to look at her. Yami was ashamed to admit that he had sort of forgotten about the girl until then. He could have shown her around the building, but he'd been more concerned with leaving it and getting on the road to the address on the slip of paper. Now she stood there, smiling nervously and still looking completely out of place here. Yami felt a bit bad for her. She didn't belong here, he could see that easily enough. Maybe after another two years at the academy she would be ready, but not now. This was far too soon. How old was she? She couldn't have been a teenager, yet she still looked like one.

"I'll take my car. You sit up in the front with Yami, okay hun? We don't want to force you to sit in the back," Otogi replied with a grin. He was gone before Yami could think of how to suggest that the seating arrangements were a bit less than adequate, and then he was stuck with her. He looked her over. She looked back. He found himself realizing that he didn't know how he should talk to her. He doubted she would like being spoken to in the same way he conversed with Yuugi, but she just looked so young…

"Let's get going," he said. He opened the car door to let her in and she slid inside with a quiet "thanks." Yami got into the driver's seat. He checked the address once more before starting the car. He hoped it wouldn't be as long of a ride as he feared.

00000

"I already told them I don't have time for this," Kaiba growled. His fingers thrummed against the top of the polished wood of his desk. If he were a lesser man he would have been pacing by this point.

"As I am aware, but the Big Five insist that they need to meet with you before putting any of the new product out on the streets," Pegasus said placatingly.

"Their say in things doesn't matter," Kaiba snapped. "All they're here for is to supply me with what I need. It's my people who go out there and take the risk getting the product out, it's _my_ name that everything will come back to if one of the chains break. They take no risk whatsoever, yet reap thirty percent of _my_ profit. It I don't have the time to meet with them, then I don't have the time to meet with them."

"_I_ know that, but they're businessmen, Kaiba-boy. They're worries that somehow something will fall though and they'll be indicated. This is the biggest package we've put out there, as I'm sure you are aware," Pegasus said.

"Pegasus," Kaiba called out, "_what_ have I told you about calling my by that infuriating nickname?" Pegasus looked perplexed, then a bit startled. Kaiba watched the open display of human emotions and stopped the main before it could go any further. "Tell them I'll speak with them when I am able to."

"Sir—"

"_Tell them_ that I will speak with them when I am able to," Kaiba repeated. His fist clenched sporadically and Pegasus decided to be smart for once. He made a mocking half-bow that had silver hair covering more of his face than usual and left the office. Kaiba rolled his eyes, sighed and permitted himself to lean back in his chair. Pain bloomed in the front of his head and he rubbed his temples tiredly to lesson it.

"They should have been back by now," he said to no one in particular. He opened his eyes and looked through his spread fingers to the spot in front of the big screen tv where Mokuba usually sat. Kaiba's hands slowly slid down his face to the top of the desk. He stared at the spot hard, as it he could conjure Mokuba there out of thin air if he concentrated hard enough. He glared and Mokuba nearly appeared there, ready to turn and open his mouth—but of course he wasn't really there at all, and Kaiba was just imagining things because he had been up all night trying to work but he hadn't accomplished anything worthwhile.

The door to his office burst open and Kaiba bristled and prepared himself to yell at Pegasus for coming in unannounced. But an hour had passed since the irritating man had come in and Kaiba had apparently spent that time daydreaming. It was Jounouchi and his sister and that idiot friend who came into the office, red-faced and panting like they'd run a marathon. Kaiba wasted no time in scolding them for entering as they had. He stood and faced them all and got down to business.

"I expected you three here yesterday. What happened?" he demanded.

"Bakura's—" "—didn't find—" "—coming!"

"One at a time," Kaiba growled. The pain in his head flared up again and if he was alone he could have closed his eyes for a few seconds. But he was not alone and he had to keep face here. He couldn't let anyone see him as anything other than Seto Kaiba, the best-known name in the underground world and the best there was.

The three before him meanwhile all shuffled around and looked at each other. All were subdued and shy compared to how they'd been ten seconds ago. Finally the awkward dance between them all ended with the sister pushed to the front of the line. She looked at the ground, shifted her weight from foot-to-foot. Kaiba waited not so patiently. She finally looked up at him and her eyes were the same hazelnut brown as her brother's. They might almost be pretty if they didn't look so apprehensive.

"Mokuba… wasn't there anymore, sir. We looked for any trace we could find of him, but there was nothing to go off of."

If the three of them were expecting a reaction from him, they were disappointed. Kaiba could not say that he hadn't been expecting this outcome. It had to have been Bakura who'd taken his brother. He'd heard that the other male was quite the thief. To break into the Kaiba mansion would have taken skill, and Bakura would be out seeking revenge for the two hits Kaiba had placed on him. The other man had to be smart, or he would have never made it this far in the game based on luck alone. He would have known that Kaiba was coming after him. He wouldn't have left Mokuba in the most obvious place to look.

"We found Bakura though. That poor bastard's dead and gone."

Kaiba nearly froze. This time he did react. "What?" he spat out. The man who'd said it, the mutt's idiot friend, took a surprised step backwards.

"Umm, he's dead. We got there and found his body. Looked like it had been there for a while. We searched around to figure out what had happened, and—"

"Wait," Kaiba commanded. The speaking ceased, and the idiot with the spike on his head stood at attention. "Repeat what you just said."

The idiot looked confused, and then, "Bakura's dead."

Kaiba's mind reeled. This was not expected. He'd planned for many different outcomes when the three got back and reported their findings, but this hadn't even been a possibility then. There was no way for Bakura to be dead. It couldn't happen. Both of his assassins had failed and likely been killed; there wasn't anyone left _to_ murder Bakura. It wasn't feasible. And if it _was_ somehow true that his rival had been killed, where did that leave Mokuba? Could someone else have taken him? But who? Kaiba didn't think anyone else had the audacity to come after him like that. There had to be something else going on. Bakura could not be dead. Those three had messed up somehow.

"We're leaving," Kaiba said.

"Uhmm, Kaiba, I dunno if that's the best idea," Jounouchi murmured. Kaiba didn't even hear him. He should have known better than to trust those three on something like this. It he wanted something done correctly, then he needed to do it himself. He'd always been the only person he trusted.

"I really don't think you wanna go out there!" Jounouchi called out again, much louder this time. Kaiba had grabbed his coat and had marched half across the room when he felt the hand on his arm. He spun around, beyond incensed at this point, hissed a sharp "_What?_" though his teeth. A knock on the door. Kaiba didn't take his eyes off Jounouchi. The door and the people beyond it could wait. But it opened, and in walked three people Kaiba had never before seen in his life, but recognized all the same. Jounouchi's eyes softened somewhat and he shrugged, like he had done all he could do to warn him. Kaiba kept the eye contact for a moment longer before turning around to properly face the three police officers.

"Are you Seto Kaiba?" the foremost officer questioned. His eyes were dark violet and unfathomable. His voice was a deep timbre that rang with authority. Those eyes searched Kaiba over in the same way Kaiba searched him, both looking for some apparent answer. He didn't like this man, Kaiba decided. He didn't like the assured way he held himself and the lofty manner of his question. He didn't like that this man exuded the same type of regal dominance Kaiba himself was accustomed to.

"I am," he answered. "Was there something you wanted?"

"My name is Yami Mutou and this is my partner Ryuuji Otogi, and our coworker, Anzu Mazaki. We would like to ask you a few questions about your brother," the pompous man said again. Kaiba's eyes widened imperceptibly and then narrowed. His jaw clenched and twitched.

"My brother?" he questioned. Of course it was obvious that they knew Mokuba had been kidnapped, even if this Yami fellow purposefully avoided mentioning it. Kaiba made the conscious choice to play ignorant. These people should not have known a single thing about his brother. He needed to know how it was that they did.

"Yes. We received a call from you early yesterday morning reporting that your brother had been kidnapped and your house had been robbed. Did you make this call?" Yami asked.

"No," Kaiba answered, "I did not." He would never be dense enough to get the police involved with his affairs. But someone had. His gaze unconsciously slid over to the mutt and his friends, then back to his guests. No. Not Jounocuhi. He was truly stupid, but even Kaiba was aware that he was not _that_ stupid. But someone was. And he would find out whom and deal with him or her personally.

"If you're saying it wasn't you who called us, then do you have any idea who did? And your brother actually is missing, isn't he? There's not just a few things missing from your house?" the black-haired cop asked. Kaiba could not remember his or the girl's name, and he didn't care that he couldn't in the slightest.

"No, I couldn't tell you," Kaiba answered through gritted teeth. Though he was beginning to form an idea of who might have done it. He was also starting to get the feel that these cops had already been to his house, were probably still at his mouse dusting for prints and making lists that mentioned every little thing that had been moved, touched or stolen. They had probably been there since the call had been placed alerting the police to the theft and kidnapping. And if they had, the job to report all of that back fell on one person. Pegasus didn't even have an excuse. He'd been here earlier. "And yes, my brother is missing."

"Well then we're going to need you to answer a few questions. First, when did you first notice that Mokuba Kaiba could not be found?" the black-haired cop asked again.

"Two days ago, some time close to seven in the morning," Kaiba answered.

"Two days ago?" Yami interrupted, frowning. "Your brother has been gone for two days?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Kaiba said dryly. Yami's frown grew deeper and more pronounced.

"The call we received was yesterday morning. Yet you're saying that Mokuba Kaiba had actually been gone since the day before then?"

"Yes," Kaiba hissed.

"Then why did you not call earlier to report the crime? If you knew that he was missing and your house had been broken into, you should have called us that very moment," Yami said.

"Well I wasn't the one who did the calling, was I?" Kaiba retorted. Yami did not say another word, and Kaiba kept quiet as well. He didn't like the way this cop was looking at him. The girl in the back didn't seem to matter at all and the male wasn't worth his attention, but this man was. This cop Yami wasn't the ordinary run-of-the-mill officer Kaiba saw parading around Domino and play-acting how to do real police work. He would certainly have to be careful with this man, and he didn't like it. Kaiba was used to being the best of the best. He didn't want anyone competing for his crown or attempting to knock him down.

"O-kay. Anyways then, are you sure that your brother has been kidnapped?" Kaiba tore his eyes from Yami and glared at the man's partner instead and asked him to elaborate upon the question. Kaiba hoped he was not going to hear what he was fairly certain he was going to wind up hearing.

"Well are you sure the house was actually robbed and your little brother and some of his friends didn't just time a few things and scram?" the black-haired cop questioned. He must have seen the look on the elder Kaiba's face, or perhaps experience had taught him that it was better to not just end things on that line, for he wasn't done speaking. "Not that I'm suggesting that's what really happened. I'm just opening it up as a possibility that needs to be explored if we want to find your brother. So think about it for a little bit. Is it possible that he could have just taken the things and ran?"

"That wouldn't 'appen." Of all the people to open their mouths to defend him and Mokuba, Kaiba had never expected the role to fall to Jounouchi. He had forgotten that the mutt and his friends were still here, to be completely honest. "If there's one thing I know, it's that Mokuba loves 'is big bro. 'e wouldn't do a thing like what you said. Ain't you all s'posed to be searchin' for the kid? So stop askin' stupid questions an' find 'im!"

Kaiba looked at his side and found Jounouchi there. Jounouchi wasn't looked at him like Kaiba had expected, ready to dispel anything useful he'd actually done by opening his mouth and letting his mediocre amount of intelligence show, but was glaring at the three cops, especially the black-haired one. Just like a dog, Kaiba thought. Defending his master from harm's way. It was funny, though Jounouchi wouldn't see it as such and Kaiba didn't mention it. Jounouchi was the last person he had ever expected to defend him, and the fact that he was made the situation disconcerting rather than amusing.

"That's great, little doggy, but I was asking your master here and not you, so maybe you'd like to stop barking and let him answer the question," the black-haired cop smiled. Jounouchi's eyes widened and he fumed. Kaiba was also caught by surprise and felt the smallest inklings of anger rise in him. _He_ was the only one able to call Jounouchi a mutt, and if this nobody thought that he deserved the privilege, he would be very sorry.

"I would appreciate it if you closed your own mouth instead of insulting the help. What he had to say was every bit as useful as my own words. No, Mokuba wouldn't have stolen these things and ran away. So kindly cease wasting my valuable time with your baseless queries and lukewarm insults and do your job. If your people have been at my house then you've likely found some piece of evidence that would exonerate my brother from this crime. Or am I wrong in assuming that the Domino City Police force is actually halfway competent? And Jounouchi—" he broke off, faced Jounouchi, who hadn't quite decided whether to show the emotion anger, surprise or some kind of joyously taunting relief—"while I am amused by your efforts to provide assistance, I can fight my own battles."

Jounouchi decided on the anger for now. His golden-brown eyes went from Kaiba to the trio of police, back to Kaiba, then down to the ground. He opened his mouth to grumble inaudibly and decided to be reasonably smart for the moment and move back with his sister and friend. One of the cops cleared his throat and Kaiba refocused his attention to the lot of them. Yami was looking to speak with him again.

"As you said, we have sent some of our officers to your house. We've found some fingerprints, but at this point it's nothing that can help us. We've ran them against the prints of those who work for you and haven't found anything on that front either. Any information you can think of as to the identity of the criminal or what his or her motivation may be can only help us. Do you have any enemies, Seto Kaiba?" Yami asked.

Kaiba didn't respond to the question immediately. There were benefits to working with the cops and having access to their resources, but… According to Jounouchi, the person he'd been convinced had been behind Mokuba's kidnapping was dead. Leading the police in Bakura's direction could allow his brother to be found faster and without injury, but it could also lead to them finding out about the assassination attempts he'd staged against the man. And he couldn't allow his own name to be dirtied. Not if he wanted to keep his brother and himself in the lifestyle they were now accustomed to. Kaiba had to stay as far away from the police as he could.

"No. Unfortunately, I haven't a clue as to who could have done this. If I did, you and your men would be the first to know."

"Is there anything you can think of? Anything strange that has happened lately? Even the smallest piece of information can lead to a breakthrough in a case," Yami said. Kaiba shook his head.

"I can't think of anything."

Yami nodded solemnly and turned to his partner. The girl in the back continued to look awkward and out of place and Kaiba had to wonder why she was even here. She added nothing to this conversation. He almost felt like her presence was mocking him. She was quite obviously out of her league.

"Well thank you very much for your cooperation, Seto Kaiba. We're going to head out to the house now and check in on the situation there. If you have any questions or think of anything of value, please do not hesitate to contact us." Yami handed him a card with the names of himself and his partner—Ryuuji Otogi, though Kaiba knew he would forget it again briefly—and their numbers. Kaiba pocketed it.

"I trust you'll call me if you find anything," Kaiba said. Yami said as much and finally turned to leave Kaiba's office. The new girl followed him out and the partner Otogi went last. He winked; behind him Kaiba head the outraged cries of Jounouchi and the idiot friend. He didn't even want to know, but sadly thought he could hazard a guess.

He closed his eyes to block the outcries of jealousy and accusations of who liked who and all the other pedestrian going ons behind him that largely did not concern or interest him in any matter. His main focus now was how to find out exactly what had happened to Bakura. It wasn't that he didn't trust the account of the three behind him (though he didn't), but there was bound to be information that they had missed or left lying about, especially if they entered the house, as Kaiba was sure they had done. And with the police involved in this now, he needed to be extra careful as well as know exactly what was happening on his playing field at any given time. He was currently as a severe disadvantage due to his lack of detail. One that he was planning on righting just as soon as he was positive the cops had gone to his house and weren't lying in wait to see his next move. But before that…

Still ignoring the rising tones of conversation going on behind him, Kaiba walked to his desk and picked up the phone. He had a certain person who he needed to talk to and make clear a few things.

"Pegasus," he barked when the man on the other end picked up. "I learned some very interesting information just recently. A group of police officers came to my office to question me on the whereabouts of my brother. I had apparently called them to report Mokuba as missing just yesterday morning. Of course, I placed no such call. Is there anything you might know about the subject?"

"I'm afraid that I'm just as clueless about such a call as you are. Would you like for me to question the servants? Perhaps in their worry one of them thought the police would be of help," Pegasus answered. His tone was annoyingly cheerful. It always was, but it didn't usually irritate Kaiba quite so much as it did not. That mocked tone yelled at him that Pegasus was lying through his teeth, but Kaiba had no way of calling him out on it just yet.

"That or perhaps someone is trying to sabotage me. I'm afraid the attempt won't work."

"I'll make sure to let the staff know that," Pegasus replied. He sounded like he was laughing. "Oh, before you go run off in search of your brother, the Big Five were not very happy to hear that you were putting off their meeting. They've insisted that you take the time out to speak with them _very soon_, or they won't go through with the deal."

Kaiba grit his teeth and closed his eyes. _Ten_. When he'd been young, he'd often gotten angry at those who were unable to understand him. _Nine_. To him, everyone else had been so petty and stupid. _Eight_. Once of his old mentors, a man who he'd been able to stand—_Seven_—had told him to count down from ten when he got angry and then speak. He'd laughed it off at first because it was such a commonplace suggestion, but… _Six_. Kaiba found that it worked. He employed it at meetings and he employed it when speaking to his servants. He even made use of it on occasion when speaking to Mokuba. _Five_. He used it now. _Four_. Pegasus was an idiot. _Three_. The Big Five were idiots. The Big Five could not understand that some things were more important than money. _Two_. But it didn't matter. He was in charge and they could wait until he'd found Mokuba. He was in charge. _One_.

"I told you to tell them that I will speak with them when I have the time. Right now I do not. There are other things that require my attention more than those five. If they want to cancel our deal, then fine. But I will get to them later. I don't want to hear another word about it," Kaiba responded succinctly.

"Of course, Kaiba-boy."

Before Kaiba could call him out on the use of the vexating nickname, Pegasus had hung up the phone. Kaiba did the same and this time gave in to the urge to rub his temples. His eyes flitted closed for a moment. When he opened them to look at the three lackeys staring at him, his mask was back in place.

"You three are going to accompany me to the Bakura household. I want you to show me every single room you went into, every doorknob and window you touched and where the body is. We're going to clean that house top to bottom if we have to. The police will likely trace this all back to Bakura somehow, and when they do they are not going to find a single hair follicle that will lead that body back to me. There will not be any surprises. We will not leave that house until we know all there is to know about what happened. Do you understand?" Kaiba demanded. The girl nodded, the idiot after.

"Don't worry, we gotcha covered!" Jounouchi exclaimed with much more enthusiasm than Kaiba was sure the situation deserved. He recalled the way Jounouchi had spoken up for him earlier and was strangely warmed by it.

"Lead the way then," he said.

* * *

So that was the chapter. Seven will be a bit more entertaining and likely get back around to the horror aspect of things I've been nurturing throughout the beginning of this, I hope. However, you'll all likely have to wait until December to see it, and October is half over already, and due to NaNoWriMo I'll be AWOL throughout the month of November. I will still be working on chapter seven until November rolls around though!

Please remember to review, and thank you all very much!


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